


Truth or Dare

by sneetchstar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-06 14:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11602971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneetchstar/pseuds/sneetchstar
Summary: Passing time in a stuck elevator leads to general shenanigans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally published on ff.net in September 2012

_Ding._

The doors to the lift open late on a Friday, and he steps in, smiling bashfully at the one young lady with which he always hopes to share the small space of the elevator.

"Evening," he says quietly.

"Evening," she answers back, looking shyly down at her shoes.

_God, she looks so cute tonight._

_He's wearing that cologne again._

_Ding._

The doors slide closed and the lift starts to descend. Her office is on the top floor of Camelot Tower, his one below. Twenty-five and twenty-four.

The two passengers stand silently, each uneasy in the other's presence, each struggling with their attraction to the other, neither knowing if it is mutual.

In truth, had there been a third person in the lift with them, that person would have felt _very_ uncomfortable, indeed.

There is a deep rumble that reaches their ears through the building and into the lift at its center, and the lights flicker and go out.

The lift stops somewhere between ten and eleven.

They look at each other. Rather, they look _for_ each other; it is pitch black inside.

He is just about to say something when he feels her hand, shaky, groping, and finally closing around his upper arm. Tightly.

"I'm here," he says dumbly. _Where the hell else would I be?_

She says nothing, just continues to grip his arm.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asks.

"Claustrophobic," she whispers. "I don't like elevators in general. This is worse."

He reaches out with his other hand and places it over hers. She feels the warmth of his hand on her fingers. _Warm. Solid. Reassuring._

"Thunderstorm must have knocked out the power," he says, again stating the obvious.

"That would be my guess."

"I'm Arthur," he says, feeling like he should introduce himself.

"Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen."

"Nice to finally meet you, Guinevere," Arthur says, stroking the back of her hand with his fingers.

Her stomach flips.

So does his.

"Should we sit?" he asks suddenly. "We don't know how long we'll be dangling here, and…"

"Don't say 'dangling,'" she interrupts.

"'Stuck' isn't any better, is it?"

"Worse."

"Okay, so we don't know how long we'll be… here," he decides to abandon any verb, "so we may as well get comfortable."

"I can't see," she says.

"Neither can I," he answers, but she feels him start to move nevertheless, backing up, pulling her with him.

"Wait," she says, and he can hear her digging in her purse. Suddenly there is a light source.

"No signal in here, but it can provide some light," she says, waving her mobile at him.

"Aha, smart," he says, and they find their way to the back wall of the lift and sit, leaning back against it.

She sits close to him, her hip touching his.

_She's probably just scared._

Then she reaches over and takes his hand.

_She's probably just scared._

Arthur digs his phone out of his inside breast pocket and swipes it on as well.

"iPhone?" he looks over at hers.

"Yeah. You?"

"Galaxy III."

"Like it?"

"Love it."

They sit in silence again.

"You work at Albion Marketing," he says. "What do you do there?"

"Graphic designer. I mostly do magazine adverts. Put them together, make them all pretty, kind of thing. You're at Pendragon Insurance."

"Yeah."

"What do you do there?"

"Pretty much whatever I want. My father is the CEO. Technically my title is Executive Vice-President, but basically I sign checks and tell people they can't have any more money," he chuckles.

"Must be nice."

"It's okay," he shrugs, poking his phone back to life when it goes black, enjoying how she looks in the eerie glow of their phones. _The best part of the day is riding the lift with you,_ he thinks. He contemplates saying it.

There is another distant, muffled rumble. Arthur hears the light _clunk_ as Gwen removes her shoes, shoving them off with her toes and letting them fall.

"Make yourself comfortable," he jokes.

"You wear heels sometime, see how long you last," she says, but she is smiling. "I just hope the smell doesn't kill you."

He sniffs theatrically. "I don't smell anything except…" he sniffs again, less theatrically, his nose following the scent to her neck, "lavender."

She smiles and blushes, and her phone goes dark. She waits a minute to fire it back up, presumably hiding for a moment.

"Duh," she says, poking and swiping her phone, setting the screen timeout to longer than 30 seconds.

He leans over to see what she's doing. "Good idea again," he says, and follows suit. "Ten minutes is the best I can do," he frowns.

"I can do thirty," she gloats.

"Oh, well, but can yours do this?" he asks, swiping over, pressing an icon, then a moment later the sound of a massive juicy fart erupts from the device in his hand.

Gwen bursts forth laughing, leaning _towards_ him rather than away, he notices.

"No, I'm sorry, I don't think my phone would accept the installation of such an app."

He pokes the screen again, producing a different but equally robust sound.

She giggles again.

"You have a wonderful laugh," he says, smiling at her, his eyes twinkling in the cell phone glow.

"We should play a game or something," he says after a moment of mildly awkward silence. He's shut down his virtual whoopee cushion, and is grasping for something to talk about.

_I know what I want to say, but it would be highly inappropriate right now._

"A game?"

"You know, like I Spy or Truth or Dare or 20 Questions or something."

"I Spy? Really?"

"Okay, maybe not I Spy."

 _Go for it._ "Truth or Dare?" he asks smoothly, his voice bearing the slightest insinuation.

"Truth."

"Ummm… are you ticklish?"

"That's the best you can come up with?"

"I panicked."

"Yes, I am."

"Where?"

"It's not a two-part question, Arthur."

"Okay. Truth, then, since you've decided to start out wimpy."

"How many women have you slept with?"

"Wow, you just went right for it, didn't you," he mutters, and she laughs. "Let's see, last count was…" he starts ticking off on his fingers, muttering things liks, "…carry the one…" then pokes around on his phone for the calculator app. "Ow!"

She pinched his arm.

"Three."

"Okay. Um, truth again."

"Chicken," he says.

"I'm working up to it."

"Okay, how old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"I suppose I should have seen that coming. Almost 20."

"Wow," he blinks.

"Oh, so how old were you? Twelve?"

"18. And it was a catastrophe. And that counts as my turn."

"Does not."

"Does, too. We can just assume I had said 'Truth' and you asked me the same question," he pouts.

 _Okay, that is ridiculously cute,_ she thinks, watching his full lower lip as it juts out slightly. "Fine, but only because you are pouting like a little boy."

"Am not," he says, continuing to pout.

"Dare," she says quietly, and the lower lip retracts, bitten quite alluringly by his teeth now as he thinks.

"Cluck like a chicken," he says, then immediately regrets it.

"You panicked again, didn't you?"

He nods. _I really wanted to say 'kiss me.'_

Completely nonplussed, she makes a very passable chicken noise.

"That was really good!" he laughs, surprised and delighted. "All right. Dare."

"Make your best and/or most embarrassing animal sound."

 _Oh, no._ "It's really loud, just to warn you."

"What on earth?" she wonders aloud, and her words are cut off by a very loud and very accurate donkey noise.

"Oh, my God," she gasps, laughing again, "That was brilliant!" Her hands cover her mouth as she giggles. "Okay," she recovers again. "I need to do another truth."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He knows she is not married. The first time he saw her he looked and saw no ring on her left hand.

"No," she says quietly, biting her own lip now.

"Girlfriend?" he ventures.

"You're trying to cheat again, but no, I'm straight."

"Truth," he says, fishing for the same question back.

She doesn't ask it. "Boxers or briefs?"

"You're not going to ask me if I have a girlfriend?"

"No. Pants: What kind?"

"Boxer briefs, actually."

"Very nice."

"Why aren't you going to ask?"

"Because I don't need to ask," she says quietly.

"Why?" _How does she know?_

"Because you and I are the only people left working in this building at nearly seven on a Friday evening. If you had a girlfriend, you wouldn't be working this late. Not on a Friday."

"Good point."

" _I_ certainly would have a problem with it, if I…" she stops mid-sentence, realizing what she is about to say.

"If you what?"

"Nothing. Who's turn is it?"

"Yours."

She sighs. "Dare."

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"You heard me," he says quietly, turning his face towards hers.

"I know, I just wanted to see if you would say it again."

"Kiss me, Guinevere," he says, his voice low, washing over her skin like a caress.

"Okay," she whispers.

Slowly, very slowly, she leans toward him. His eyes drop to her lips, and when her tongue darts out unconsciously to wet them, he nearly stops breathing.

Her lips touch his once, softly, lingering just long enough, just long enough for both of them to feel the jolt of electricity course through their veins at the contact, just long enough for the temperature inside the lift to rise at least ten degrees.

At least that's how it feels.

"Truth," he breathes against her lips, pulling away just a fraction of an inch.

"Did you feel that?" she asks, slowly opening her eyes to gaze into his.

"Yes," he rumbles.

"Dare," she whispers.

"Kiss me again," he says, and her lips are immediately crushing against his, and her phone clatters to the floor as she clutches the lapels of his jacket, parting her lips when she feels his tongue ask for entrance.

Now his phone falls as he pulls her across his lap, wrapping his arms around her, cradling her head in one hand, his fingers delving into her soft curls, the other wrapping around her narrow waist.

They kiss hungrily, their tongues sparring, sweeping, massaging each other, drinking from each other as though they are stranded in a desert.

"Dare," he tears his lips away long enough to speak one word.

"Touch me," she gasps, pulling his hand to her breast, and his fingers grip it reflexively, feeling its shape, its weight.

"So good," he whispers, trailing kisses down her neck as she throws her head back and shifts on his lap so she is straddling him.

She holds his head lightly, her fingers raking through his soft blonde hair as he nudges his way into her blouse, placing kisses on the bit of chest he can get to.

"Dare," he says desperately, hoping.

"Buttons," she simply says, not even a complete sentence, but he knows what she means. His fingers fly to the buttons of her blouse, opening several but not all, plunging his hand inside to her breast, over her bra, while he trails kisses on the soft mounds.

She feels his stiffness beneath her, and her hips instinctively roll against him, and he groans.

"Dare," she moans.

Then the lights flicker back on and the lift starts moving. They blink in the light, staring at each other.

"Um, hello," she says, smiling a little at him.

He chuckles, and starts re-buttoning her blouse. She fixes his hair, smoothing it back to its original location.

They retrieve their phones and Arthur helps her to her feet. Gwen cannot help but notice the telltale bulge in his trousers and smiles apologetically at him.

"I still owe you a dare," he says.

"Do tell," she turns to face him.

"Come home with me."

_Ding._


	2. Chapter 2

"Hold the doors!" Arthur hears a familiar voice yell, and he thrusts his hand forward, blocking the closing doors, ignoring the grumblings of the other people in the elevator Monday morning.

"Thank you," Gwen breathes, scurrying in. Then she sees who held the door, and blushes. She bites the corner of her lower lip and makes her way to the back of the lift, since she has to ride it all the way to the top.

Arthur sees the way her little white teeth catch the corner of her luscious lower lip, and he forgets to breathe.

_He sucks her lower lip in between his lips, nibbling lightly at the succulent flesh, making her gasp and cling to him, her lithe body under his, almost naked._

The lift stops on three, and as the doors slide open, he takes advantage of the shuffle of bodies to make his way back beside Guinevere.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey, yourself," she answers, looking down at his hands, fidgeting with his briefcase.

_His long fingers make quick work of the clasp holding her bra together, and those hands are touching, caressing the soft orbs before the garment hits the floor._

_"Beautiful," he mutters before dropping a line of kisses down her neck, working his way to the newly-exposed flesh._

Stop at five, and Gwen bends down to adjust her shoe, inching closer to him in the process.

At nine, she feels his hand snake behind her and close gently over her backside, squeezing lightly. She bites her lip again.

Seventeen. The last other occupant exits, muttering, "Get a room already," as he exits.

_Ding._

The doors slide closed and Arthur turns towards Gwen, jumping in surprise when her lips are immediately on his, kissing hungrily, tongue thrusting insistently.

Arthur's hands react first, wrapping around her as his eyes drop closed and his tongue battles back, taking control.

"I missed you yesterday," he says quietly, his forehead against hers.

"I missed you, too," she answers.

 _Ding._ Twenty-four.

"Shit," Arthur curses.

Gwen smiles. "Dare."

"Have lunch with me."

"Yes, please," she answers, and he pecks her lips once more, turning to exit just as the doors begin closing again.

10:13 a.m., Gwen's phone buzzes and flashes.

 _Too early for lunch?_ Arthur.

Smiling, she texts back _Yes._

_Truth._

Gwen thinks a minute. _Are you planning on having lunch with me or having me for lunch?_

_The second one._

_Well, you'll have to wait. Some of us have real jobs._

12:35 finds them closed in Arthur's office, Gwen straddling his lap in his chair, Arthur's hands on her rear and his face in her cleavage.

"Oh, God," she breathes, her head back, her hands in his hair.

Arthur lifts his head and kisses her lips. "I want you so much right now," he mutters into her mouth, his lips barely leaving hers.

"What if someone comes in?" she gasps quietly. "Or hears us?"

"Door's locked," he says. "And if you keep it down, no one will hear us."

"Me?" she pulls back and looks down at him.

"You were the one that had my neighbors banging on the walls at us on Saturday, Guinevere," he reminds her, smirking.

_"Oh… Arthur… God… Oh, God, Arthur!" Gwen screams her release, pressed against the wall of Arthur's bedroom, her legs wrapped around his waist._

_"Shut up! Give it a rest already!" Muffled shouts accompanied by pounding on the other side of the wall send Gwen into a fit of embarrassed giggles._

She blushes and bites her lip, then leans down and kisses him. "Dare," she whispers.

He looks at her, then drops his eyes suggestively to his lap.

"You are evil," she says, climbing down off his lap to kneel between his legs, reaching for the zipper of his trousers.

Arthur leans back indulgently in his chair, closing his eyes as Gwen reaches in and withdraws his already-stiff manhood from his rather expensive tailored trousers.

She dips her head, taking him into her mouth, sliding her tongue along his length.

"Guinevere…" he groans, gripping the arms of his chair.

Gwen takes all of him into her mouth, her hand gripping the base of him, working with her mouth, pumping and sucking, her free hand gripping his thigh, massaging it lightly.

His hand drops to her head, delving his fingers into her hair, but careful not to dishevel it. _She has to go back to work after. Remember this, Arthur…_ He groans as she swirls her tongue around the tip, kissing the very end softly. Then she takes him all back in again, deeply, and his hips buck in the chair.

"Oh," he grunts, struggling to keep his seat now, as he grows closer, closer, her lips and tongue like warm liquid velvet against his swollen shaft.

He bites down on his lower lip and grips the arms of his chair tightly as he climaxes, surging into her mouth, down her throat.

She gently releases him, kissing the softening shaft sweetly. As she stands, he rights his clothing.

"You're very good at that," he says, watching as she takes a drink from the water bottle on his desk.

"I seem to recall you were pretty good at it yourself," she says, sitting back down in his lap.

_Arthur traces the lines of her folds with his tongue, wet, swollen with arousal, then slides his tongue within her, flexing it this way at that. She rewards his efforts with a plaintive moan, and as he moves to flick his tongue at her sensitive button, he raises his eyes for a moment and sees her, her head tossing, her hands gripping her breats._

"And now you owe me," she adds saucily.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. _And_ lunch, in fact."

He opens his mouth and she cuts him off. "Don't you _dare_ tell me I just ate," she warns, but he can tell she is trying not to laugh.

"Dinner, then. I'll take you to a proper restaurant and everything," he says, leaning to kiss her again.

"I really like you, Arthur," she says quietly, leaning her head against his, afraid to look at him for fear he doesn't feel the same, for fear that she is nothing but a sex toy.

"Truth," he whispers in her ear.

"Ugh, you're going to make me ask?"

She feels him nod against her neck.

"Do you really like me or is this just physical?" she asks, whispering.

"I really, _really_ like you."

Gwen's heart swells, and he tightens his arms around her. Her phone makes a sound.

"Shit, I have to go back to work," she says, kissing him once more. Then she reaches for her blouse, fastening the buttons up again.

"You set an alarm?" he asks, looking at her phone.

"I thought it was probably a good idea," she grins at him. "Do I look a mess?"

"You look perfect. No one would ever guess," he grins back.

She looks at the door to his office. "Why do I feel like I'm about to do the Walk of Shame?" she laughs.

"Nothing shameful about it, and nobody else's business anyway," he says, walking to the door and opening it for her.

She walks out, slinging her never-opened lunch bag over her shoulder.

"Five o'clock," he calls after her. She looks back and waves, smiling sweetly.

"Arthur, who is that?" Arthur's father, Uther Pendragon strolls up and asks.

"Her name is Guinevere. She works upstairs. We met in the lift last Friday."

"Pretty."

"Pretty wonderful, Father."

Uther looks at his son, noting how his eyes never leave her form, how they even linger on the doors once she is out of sight.

"Lunch date?" he asks, snapping Arthur out of his reverie.

"Yeah. Taking her to dinner tonight, too."

Uther chuckles, placing his hand on his son's shoulder. "The back of your shirt is untucked," he mutters in Arthur's ear, then walks away, still chuckling to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

"Dare," Arthur mutters in Gwen's ear, kissing her neck.

"Arthur, we are in the middle of a restaurant," Gwen protests mildly, pushing his shoulder lightly.

"We're not in the middle," he says smirking at her. "I specifically requested a secluded booth."

"I thought you were being romantic, not perverted," she says, a smile tugging at her lips now.

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," he declares, waving his hand dismissively.

Gwen laughs now, winding spaghetti around her fork.

"So?" Arthur prompts, a glint in his eye. She sighs. "Make it a good one," he challenges.

Gwen looks around. _It's dark in here. Long tablecloths on the tables. The waiter has just recently been._ She reaches out with her left hand and takes his right hand, guiding it under the table. He scoots a little closer to her as she directs his hand to her knee. He can feel the edge of her skirt with his fingertips.

She bites her lip again, that same nervous habit, and watches a devilish grin split Arthur's face when she gently pushes his hand, directing it up her thigh, beneath her skirt.

He knows now what he has been dared to do, and slides his hand up her inner thigh, caressing the silken flesh there, higher, until his fingers find the juncture of her thighs and the warm, slightly damp strip of silk covering his target.

 _Am I insane?_ Gwen thinks, remembering her tendency towards shouting. Then his fingers press against her and she realizes that she is most definitely insane.

"You're very brave," he mutters, casually reaching for his wine glass with his left hand while his right hand moves her panties to the side so his fingers can find her.

"I'm completely bonkers," she whispers, her hand gripping the table as he slides a finger inside, pushing deep.

"God, Guinevere," he groans softly, turned on by how wet she already is.

Arthur withdraws his finger so that he can circle it around that sensitive spot, adding a second finger now, increasing the contact.

Gwen's mouth opens slightly and her breathing is heavy. A bus boy passes and she clamps her mouth closed. Arthur picks up his bread and takes a bite.

He continues his surreptitious ministrations, his fingers circling, rubbing softly, then plunging inside.

Gwen strives to appear calm, as if nothing is happening. As if this gorgeous man who she is hoping will be her boyfriend very soon isn't doing deliciously sinful things to her beneath the table.

She lifts her right hand, gripping her fork, and shakily winds spaghetti around the tines, almost losing her grip on the fork when his fingers return to their circling.

Arthur's eyes twinkle with amusement and lust as he watches her, watching her unravel, watching how he can render her weak with just two fingers. He also feels his own erection straining against his trousers, and shifts slightly in his seat.

Gwen lifts the fork to her lips, and just as she puts the fork in her mouth, Arthur thrusts both fingers inside again.

"Timing is everything, you know," he teases, his voice low and seductive.

"OhmyGod…" she breathes after she swallows, running the words together. "What… the hell… was I _thinking?_ " she gasps quietly.

Arthur smiles at her, his eyes darkened by desire just from watching her. _She's close. She must be._

"This bread is very good, Guinevere. Nice chewy crust," he says, picking up a roll and handing it to her.

"What?" she gasps, blinking at him. _What the hell is he talking about? Bread? I'm about ready to burst and…_

"Here," he holds it up to her lips. "Bite," he instructs.

 _Oh,_ she realizes what he is doing, and his thoughtfulness somehow proves her undoing.

She bites into the hard crust of the roll, giving it the brunt of her outburst as she comes, the wave crashing down over her. She presses her knees together and squeaks in the back of her throat.

"Can I have my hand, or are you keeping it for another round?" he asks, smirking.

She relaxes her legs, but mutters, "I'm going to keep that hand in the drawer of my nightstand."

"Only my hand?" He laughs and leans over to kiss her, softly and sweetly. Then he lifts his fingers to his lips and sucks the moisture from them before drying them on his napkin.

"Early dessert," he chuckles. "That was fun."

"That was insane; I don't know what I was thinking," she laughs, reaching for her glass.

"You were thinking that I owed you from lunch."

"Perhaps. I have been kind of… pent up since then," she admits.

"Well, now we're even," he gins. "However," he adds, taking her hand and placing it on his groin, "this is a slight problem."

"He's going to have to wait," Gwen says, patting him once, gently, and returning her hand to the table.

Arthur pouts again.

"Just until after dinner," she leans over and kisses his ear. "You know, when we're alone. Back at my place. Or yours. I'm not fussy," she whispers, licking, then nipping the edge of his ear.

Arthur groans. "Your place. Let your neighbors experience the joy of hearing you crying out my name in ecstasy, over and over…" he says, turning to nuzzle her nose with his.

"Somehow I think they'll find it slightly less joyful than you do, Arthur," Gwen says, smiling.

Arthur pulls away suddenly, leaving Gwen surprised, puzzled until she sees that he's flagging the waiter.

"Two orders of tiramisu, to go. And the check, please."

Gwen is quiet in the car back to her place. Arthur hopes she isn't regretting what they did at the restaurant. _It was her idea, though,_ he thinks, and decides there must be something on her mind.

He reaches over for her hand, and she holds it in her lap while he drives. She only speaks to give directions, though.

"Is there something on your mind, Guinevere?" he asks finally.

"Kind of," she says. "Sorry, I know I've gone quiet."

"Do I need to be worried?" he asks.

She squeezes his hand. "I don't think so. I… I'm just trying to decide about something."

"Oh," he says, puzzled. Then, at a stoplight, he looks over at her. "Truth."

"Shit," she curses. "Will you be my date to a dinner I have to go to on Saturday?"

He almost laughs. _That's it?_ "Of course I will," he answers, reaching up to run his finger down her cheek. "You were worried about asking me that?" The light changes, and he hits the gas.

"Well, yes and no. It's a work event, and we can bring a plus-one. Just an appreciation dinner for some of our clients."

"And?"

" _And…_ " she takes a deep breath, "I was kind of hoping that you would come, but as more than just my plus-one." She looks at her knees, biting her lip. "Oh, turn left here."

 _Yes, please,_ Arthur thinks, obediently turning left. "You want to be able to introduce me as your boyfriend?" he asks softly.

She looks over at him, her lovely brown eyes wide and questioning. "Truth," she shyly tries. _I can play this game, too._ "And stop here, you can pull in the driveway." She points.

"Guinevere," he says, turning the car off, "will you be my girlfriend?" _I sound like I'm fifteen,_ he realizes, suddenly feeling ridiculous.

"Yes," she whispers, smiling. "Why do I feel like I'm in school?" she laughs nervously.

"I know, I was just thinking the same thing!" he exclaims, laughing with her, the tension in the car broken. He leans over and kisses her. Then he looks at where they are.

"You have a house? We spent last weekend in my apartment, harassing the neighbors when you have a bloody _house?_ "

Gwen laughs again. "Sorry," she apologizes, leaning over to kiss him. "I sort of inherited it when my dad died. It's really not much; it's small."

"Still a bloody house," he grumbles, but he is smiling as he exits the car and walks around to open her door.

Gwen grabs the desserts and leads him to the door. "Your apartment is beautiful, Arthur, shut up," she says. _And I'm certain that the rent on that place is definitely more than I could afford._

"Thank you," Arthur says. "Wait till you try this tiramisu. It's decadent. And I'm going to feed it to you," he says, his eyes dark and full of promise.

_Oh, God._


	4. Chapter 4

"See you later," Arthur says, kissing her one last time before he heads to his car Saturday morning.

She watches him walk down her driveway to his car.

"Stop staring at my bum," he hollers back at her, and she laughs, busted.

She closes the door and leans back against it, thinking of how much she enjoys sleeping all night in his arms and waking up with him still wrapped around her.

Last night she made the mistake of confessing that she was a bit afraid of avocadoes, so he dared her to try the guacamole dip from the Mexican food they had gotten for dinner. To her delight, she did not like the guacamole. But it didn't stop Arthur from smearing some on her neck just so he could lick it off.

In turn, she then dared him to let her give him a mud-masque facial. He enjoyed it quite thoroughly, though she's not sure if he liked the masque or if he just liked her fussing over him.

 _He may be less than thrilled when he sees the picture on Facebook, however,_ she thinks ruefully, heading for the sofa and her food magazine. She flips through it, stopping when she sees a page has its corner folded. _I didn't mark this page,_ she thinks, and looks at the recipe on it. Salted caramel shortbread bars. _Okay, then._

xXx

Gwen's phone pings at 12:05. She's changed her text notification to sound like an elevator chime. Smiling, she looks at her phone.

_Have you had lunch?_

_Not yet._

Five seconds later her doorbell rings, and Gwen runs to the door.

"When you said 'later,' I was expecting closer to six or so," she greets him, but really she is overjoyed to see him standing on her porch, laden down with a garment bag, a backpack, and a bag from KFC.

"Should I go, then?" he asks, his face falling.

"I didn't say that," she answers, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.

"I like your outfit," he tells her, handing over the lunch.

Gwen has showered, but is not dressed, lounging around in a fluffy purple bathrobe. "I didn't want to get dressed only to get dressed again later," she says, calling after him as he strides comfortably back to her bedroom to hang up his suit and take off his shoes.

After they have their fill of fried chicken, Gwen goes to the refrigerator and withdraws a rectangular pan.

"What have you got there?" he asks, standing and coming to stand behind her, peering over her shoulder as she cuts the bars.

"Salted caramel shortbread bars," she says casually, grinning when he slides his hands around her waist. "You are about as subtle as a rocket launcher."

"I actually marked that page because _I_ wanted to copy down the recipe," he laughs, leaning down into her so he can kiss her neck.

"Oh? I didn't realize you could cook," she says, impressed, leaning her head back so he can continue what he is doing.

"I can," he murmurs against her neck, his hand pulling at the belt of her robe now.

"That is really… sexy," she breathes, dropping her knife on the counter and turning in his arms, leaning up to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He slides his hands inside her robe, his palms warm against her skin, her skin unbearably soft against his palms.

"You feel like silk… satin…" he mutters between kisses, his hands sliding, "velvet… baby bunnies…"

"Baby bunnies?" she pulls away, giggling.

"Sorry," he grins, "I was running out of ideas." He stares down at her a moment, his blue eyes searching the depths of her brown ones for a moment before closing his lips over hers.

He slowly walks her back to the kitchen table and she reaches behind her, pushing the boxes and plates to one side just before he lifts her and sits her on the table, leaning into her, pulling her robe fully open while she unbuttons his jeans.

"Arthur," she breathes his name while he trails kisses down her neck to her breasts, biting a nipple lightly when she withdraws his swollen shaft from his jeans, stroking him a few times before releasing him to shove down on his jeans and underwear.

"Eating lunch…" he mutters, "with you… knowing that you were… naked… under this robe…"

"Arthur," she says, taking his face between her hands, bringing it back up to hers, "shut up."

He laughs and she kisses him, reaching for him again, pulling him towards her, guiding him as he plunges forward into her, sliding easily inside, burying himself deep.

Arthur groans and throws his head back, losing himself in her, luxuriating in her. His eyes fly open again when he feels her hands slipping beneath his t-shirt, working it up, trying to pull it off of him.

He lifts his arms and she pulls the shirt off, throwing it to the side, where it lands on the floor in a crumpled heap of cotton.

She smiles as her hands roam his bare chest, feeling his muscles, feeling how his nipples stiffen under her palms the same way hers do under his. He leans down and kisses her again, still moving within her, thrusting with long, languid strokes, his lips busy with hers, his hands busy at her breasts.

He drives a little faster, a little harder, and she drops one hand back to brace herself on the table, raising the other to cling to his neck.

"Oh… oh, God…" she starts to cry out now, her head falling back, and his lips attach themselves to her neck.

"Oh… ah… yes… Arthur… oh yes… oh!" she finally shouts, digging her nails into his shoulder as she climaxes loudly, freely, with an abandon that Arthur finds both endearing and incredibly sexy.

He grins against her neck, thrusts a few more times, hard, before pushing in deep, groaning deliciously as he releases into her, pulling her close, as close as he can, holding her until the kitchen stops spinning around him.

xXx

"Bond. James Bond," Arthur says, arching an eyebrow at her as he emerges in his suit.

Gwen laughs and fastens a sliver necklace around her neck, a small locket dangling from it. "Would that make me Miss Moneypenny, then?"

"Hardly. Bond and Moneypenny never got up to anything beyond flirting," he says, pulling her into his arms, "and we've gone well past that." Arthur leans down and kisses her, sucking lightly at her upper lip until she moans softly.

"I'd reckon you were more Pu—"

She clamps her hand over his mouth, cutting him off. "Do not even go there, Pendragon," she warns, smirking at him.

Arthur kisses her fingers, laughing. "You look unbelievably beautiful, Guinevere," he says, changing the subject. He leans back and holds her at arms' length, looking her over, his eyes roaming over the cobalt blue dress she is wearing, noting how it clings in just the right places, flowing over her body like water, her soft cleavage taunting him from the neckline. He reaches up and takes one of her soft curls in his fingers, rubbing the tresses between his fingertips.

"You're looking quite handsome yourself," she says, flushing slightly under the scrutiny of his desire-filled eyes. "I like the tie." She traces her finger down a somewhat surprising lime green necktie. _Forget the dinner, let's just stay here,_ she finds herself thinking.

He pulls her close again for another kiss, since she doesn't have any lipstick or gloss on yet. "Have to take advantage before you get all made up," he murmurs against her lips.

"Why do you think I haven't put any lipstick on yet?" she answers, nibbling his lower lip a bit before pulling away again. "But now I should go finish getting ready or we'll be late. Especially if you keep distracting me," she says, the last bit over her shoulder at him.

xXx

At the banquet, they finally make their way to a table. Gwen was immediately accosted by Vivian from sales, who can't believe that Gwen brought "the hottest guy in the building" as her date, and Gwen took great delight in informing the little twit that Arthur is actually her boyfriend.

She was also quite surprised to learn that not only did Arthur know her boss, Gaius, but he's known him his whole life because Gaius and Uther have been friends for over thirty years.

Merlin, another designer and Gwen's closest friend at work, joins them at the table, and after ten seconds, he and Arthur are getting along famously, joking and laughing together as if they'd known each other forever.

They don't even notice Gwen has slipped away until she returns with Freya, chatting companionably.

"Oh, we've got a whole table here, why don't you sit with us?" Gwen is saying.

"Thank you," Freya says. She smiles shyly at Merlin. "Hi, Merlin."

"Hello, Freya," Merlin answers quietly, his ears turning pink.

Gwen quickly introduces Freya and Arthur, getting to call him her boyfriend again, trying unsuccessfully not to grin as she does so. Then she orchestrates the seating to get Freya and Merlin to sit next to one another.

People are filtering in, and there are two seats left at their table. A very handsome, dark-haired young man wanders over, places his hand on a chair and asks, "Is this taken yet?"

"No, have a seat, Lance," Merlin says casually.

Lance sits, "Hi, Gwen, Freya," he says, smiling, flashing his perfect white teeth.

Something about him gives Arthur the urge to reach over and place his hand over Gwen's on the table, stroking the back of her hand softly with his thumb.

"Hey, Lance," Gwen greets him. "Lance, this is Arthur Pendragon. My boyfriend. Arthur, Lance du Lac. He's the Senior Sales Manager."

"Nice to meet you, Lance," Arthur says tightly, but politely. "I'd shake, but I can't reach from here," he says lightly, smiling a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Lance nods, and Arthur enjoys the thinly-veiled look of disappointment that crossed his face when Gwen said the word _boyfriend._

"You work on 24?" Lance asks.

Arthur nods. "Met Guinevere in the lift last week Friday during the thunderstorm," he explains, somehow wanting to twist the knife. "We were stuck for about half an hour," he chuckles.

Gwen kicks him under the table.

xXx

Dinner is standard fare; they got to choose ahead of time from a limited menu. Arthur opted for the beef tips, Gwen chose salmon.

Casual conversation, of course. Arthur learns that Freya is actually a client, not a coworker, and Gwen whispers that Merlin has been pining for her for months now.

Arthur finds that he enjoys Gwen whispering in his ear very much.

His suspicions about Lance's feelings for Gwen become confirmed quickly just by watching Lance. He watches Gwen as much as possible. She appears to ignore his attention, but once she's finished and passed her leftovers over to Arthur, her sees her glance at Merlin, who gives her a sympathetic smile.

Then she winds her leg around Arthur's under the table and he feels better immediately. It's like she's telling Arthur _I know he likes me and I could not be less interested._ So he leans over and kisses her cheek.

Dessert arrives. It's tiramisu.

Arthur looks down at his plate, and then at Gwen, who returns his secret smile with her own.

_"Open," Arthur orders, and Gwen obliges, opening her mouth, waiting. And waiting._

_"Arthur," she huffs, frustrated, blindfolded, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her living room. She knows he's still seated right in front of her, but he's taking his time._

_"Guinevere," he mocks her tone, and then repeats lower, huskier, "open your mouth."_

_Her blood heats, his voice a seduction in itself as she opens her mouth again. Arthur feeds her a bite of the coffee-infused cheesecake from his fingers. She takes the bite and grabs his hand, licking the excess, sucking his fingers lightly._

_She hears him groan and releases his hand._

_"More?" he asks._

_"Yes."_

_"Open."_

_She does. A moment later, she feels another bite of tiramisu being deposited in her mouth, this time from his tongue. She squeaks in surprise, then clamps her lips over his, sucking his lower lip in with the dessert._

_"Mmm," she sighs._

"Monday's was better," Arthur mutters, whispering in Gwen's ear now.

"I agree," she says, feeding the bite currently on her fork to him.

"Thank you," he says, chuckling as he straightens up.

"Okay, you two seriously need to get a room," Merlin states, his lips curling in a half smile.

"Not the first time we've been told that," Gwen shoots back at him, laughing.

"Nor is it likely to be the last," Arthur adds. He laughs when Merlin rolls his eyes.

Freya is glancing furtively at Merlin, and Arthur cannot help but hope that his new friend gets up some courage to ask the pretty brunette out.

"Excuse me," Lance gets up and strolls to the bar to refresh his drink.

"You're doing this on purpose," Gwen says to Arthur, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I am innocent," Arthur protests, eyes wide. "It's him that's got a serious case of the unrequited hots."

"Well, just don't get into a pissing contest while we're eating," she says, trying not to smile. "Though I am somewhat enjoying your jealousy," she adds, quieter.

Merlin hears her, though, and laughs. "He's not wrong, you know. Lance has been trying to ask her out for a while."

"Oh, really?" Arthur asks. "And why have you refused him? He's handsome. Seems to be polite and intelligent."

"Well, first of all, we work together. And second, he's not my type at all."

"And what is your type?" Arthur asks, leaning his chin on his palm, elbow on the table.

"Blonde guys who distract nervous women in stuck elevators by playing silly games with them."

"That's what I thought," he says, smugly.

"Silly games?" Merlin asks. "Do tell."

"No," Gwen says, putting her hand over Arthur's mouth again, as he is just about to divulge.

"Come on, Gwen, did you play spin the bottle or something?"

"Wouldn't be much of a game with only two people, Merlin," Freya says. "Or perhaps a very clever, very simple way of getting to kiss someone," she adds softly.

Merlin swallows hard and takes a long drink of his water.

Arthur gives him a look across the table that says, _Come on, man, it's a sure thing._

"You never should have brought it up if you didn't intend to tell me," Merlin finally says. "And now I'm too curious. And you know I won't let it go."

"Okay, I'll tell what game we played, but that's. It."

"Fair enough. And now I'm even more intrigued."

"Truth or Dare," Gwen says, just as Lance sits.

"You're playing Truth or Dare now?" he asks, looking around the table. "What, are we all fourteen years old?"

"No, Gwen's just admitted that she and Arthur passed the time in the stuck – and presumably dark – elevator by playing Truth or Dare," Merlin explains, knowing Arthur is thoroughly enjoying watching the color drain from Lance's face. "But she won't elaborate further."

"Oh," is Lance's reply.

xXx

Speeches are made after dessert. Gwen finds them mind-numbing, and can only imagine how exciting this must be for Arthur.

"I'm going comatose with boredom," she whispers in his ear, scooting her chair closer, "how are you holding up?"

"Trying to keep my drool from staining my tie," he whispers back. Then he nips her ear lightly.

Gwen squeezes his arm, then leans over again. "Dare," she whispers, brushing her lips against his ear as she does so.

Arthur turns and raises an eyebrow at her. _Nothing too naughty. These are her coworkers._ He leans over and whispers, "Take your knickers off. Here. At the table."

Gwen almost bursts out laughing, but quickly turns it into a cough. "Excuse me," she says, apologizing.

Arthur blinks at her. _I'm waiting._ She raises both her eyebrows at him in response. _You think you're clever, don't you?_

She thinks. _There is no table behind me. That's fortunate._ She reaches for her glass, just water now, and as she pulls it to her, she "accidentally" knocks her napkin to the floor.

As she bends to pick it up, she quickly grabs the edge of her panties through her dress and hitches them down so that they are mostly off her backside. She surfaces again and sets her napkin on the table.

"Smooth," Arthur whispers, impressed. "Have you done this before?" he asks, amused.

She shoves his shoulder and rolls her eyes. Then she readjusts her skirt, moving her panties down further. "Almost to my knees," she whispers triumphantly.

"Gwen, are you all right?" Merlin asks quietly, seeing her shifting around in her seat.

"My bum is falling asleep," she tells him.

"My _brain_ is falling asleep," he answers.

 _Easy part now,_ Gwen thinks, scooting her chair further under the table, thanking the Lord for tablecloths once again. She reaches to her lap, and scoots her panties to her knees. She wiggles her knees slightly and they slide down her calves to the floor, where she delicately steps out of them.

Gwen smirks at Arthur as she slips her foot out of her shoe and picks up the undergarment with her toes, swings her foot up across her opposite knee, and she nabs it with her hand. Then, gripping them in her palm, she moves her hand into Arthur's lap, pressing the knickers deliberately into his groin.

He takes them and puts them in his trouser pocket. "Thank you very much," he says, leaning over and kissing her cheek again.

 _Why do I have the feeling that I'm not going to get those back?_ she thinks. _Like, ever._


	5. Chapter 5

_Lunch?_

Three minutes pass, then Gwen's phone vibrates on her desk. _Sorry, I have a lunch meeting today._

 _Another one? Okay._ She puts her phone down on her desk, trying not to slam it on the hard surface. There is a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that has been plaguing her since Sunday night, when Arthur chose to go home instead of staying another night.

 _He's allowed to sleep in his own bed. He's paying rent on the place, he should spend some time there,_ she had told herself. _Still, it's not the fact that he went home, but he was just… weird. Closed off. Awkward. In the short time we've been together, we've never had an awkward moment. Just in the lift that first night. Until we kissed._

"Gwen?" Merlin's voice brings her back to reality.

"Hmm?"

"You all right?"

"I don't know. I think Arthur's avoiding me."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I haven't seen him since Sunday night, and it's already Wednesday!"

"Another lunch meeting today, then?" Merlin raises an eyebrow.

"So he claims," Gwen shrugs.

"He could at least be creative. Come up with fresh material." Merlin shakes his head. "And what was it last night? His long-lost Great Aunt Myrtle came to town and wanted to take him to dinner?"

"Said his father was having him and his sister over for a family dinner."

"Right. Does he even have a sister?"

"Yes, I've seen her picture."

"Sure it wasn't one that just came with the frame?"

"Merlin!"

"Sorry. I liked the guy when I met him, but if he's jerking you around, that doesn't sit with me."

"Thank you, Merlin. If he would just _talk_ to me, maybe I could figure out what's going on. But I haven't even run into him in the lift, which is very unusual."

"That is weird."

"Excuse me," Gwen says suddenly, getting up and walking briskly to the ladies' room. Merlin sighs. He couldn't help but notice the glassiness of her eyes and the way her face crumpled and her voice shook before she took off.

When she returns to her desk, Merlin is nowhere to be seen. Ten minutes later, her phone buzzes again, and she grabs it like she wishes to choke the life out of it.

 _Roof._ It's from Merlin.

Gwen trudges to the lift, pokes the highest button, and rides the short distance to the roof access.

Merlin is waiting with a bag from McDonald's but his face is grim. "Your boyfriend is stupid," he declares.

"Obviously, but what specifically brings on this assessment?" she asks, sitting on a ledge. He hands her a chicken sandwich, fries, and a Diet Coke. "Thank you."

"I just saw him at McDonald's."

" _What?_ " Gwen shouts, setting her food down. "Did he see you?"

"No, thankfully."

"Shitbag."

"Now, maybe his meeting was cancelled…" Merlin starts.

"So now you're defending him?"

"No! But… he looked quite miserable, actually. I don't think he would have seen me if I had walked right past him. He was eating, alone. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well, he was definitely alone. His Big Mac was halfway to his mouth, but it wasn't getting any further. For like two minutes."

"Why doesn't he talk to me if something is troubling him?" Gwen wonders. The reality of the situation, that they really haven't known each other for very long, suddenly hits her. "He doesn't know me well enough to trust me yet," she whispers, reaching for a napkin to dab her eyes, still red from earlier.

"I don't think it's that, Gwen. You are a very easy person to like and trust," Merlin says, wrapping his arm around her. "Most guys just tend to keep their emotions bottled up inside. I am unusual in that respect," he grins at her.

"Yes, Merlin, your emotions are generally clearly on your sleeve for all to see," she says, taking a drink of her soda.

Merlin puts his arm around her shoulders and hugs her to his side.

She picks up her sandwich and takes a small bite. "I think I'm going to go home after lunch," she says.

xXx

_If you're going to lie about a lunch meeting, at least have the brains to keep your sorry ass in your office instead of going out where people can see you._

Gwen presses send, tosses her phone on the couch cushion and reaches for another salted caramel bar.

xXx

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice behind him makes Merlin jump out of his skin.

"Well, you've got some nerve," Merlin glares back at him.

"I know. Um, where's Guinevere?" he asks. Merlin can see the remorse, but he's still mad at Arthur, so he decides to not be helpful.

"She's not here."

"I can see that. Where did she go? Please."

"Why should I tell you? So you can make sure to _not_ go there?"

Arthur drops his head and looks to the side, glancing at Gwen's tidy desk, noting how everything is just so, her piles of work are tidy, her pens and pencils in a little ceramic cup that looks as though it has been decorated by a child.

"I need to talk to her. To see her. Explain myself," Arthur says quietly.

"She went home," Merlin relents, turning back around, facing his desk again.

"Thank you, Merlin."

"Arthur?" Merlin says, not turning around.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to break up with her?"

"No. But now I'm worried that I may have just dug my own grave."

"You should be," Merlin answers, not helping him at all.

xXx

Gwen's doorbell jolts her awake. She'd fallen into an exhausted sleep, strung out from crying and slightly overdosed on sugar. She sits up and looks around, blinking. Then the bell rings again, and she can hear a faint, "Guinevere?" from the other side of the door.

She gets up, walks casually to the door, turns the knob just so the door drifts open six inches, and then walks away, back to the living room. She doesn't look at him.

She hears Arthur enter and close the door behind him quietly, hears him follow her path to the living room.

He sits opposite her, on an upholstered chair, and looks at her.

 _I'm sure I look like complete shit, and I don't care. Let him see me at my worst. It's his fault I look like this anyway._ She watches him a moment, and it hits her that he doesn't look much better. _He looks like he hasn't slept._

"I'm sorry, Guinevere," he finally says, his voice soft, pained.

"That's a good start," she answers. He looks away.

"What the hell, Arthur?" she finally says, exasperated. "If you don't want to see me anymore, at least have the balls to tell me straight!"

"I… it's not that. I do want to still see you," he says, looking at his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

"Then why did you bail on Sunday like you suddenly didn't want to be here, like you couldn't stand being around me any longer? Why have you been avoiding me all week?"

Arthur still says nothing, continuing to look miserable and guilty.

"If you can't even talk to me, Arthur, then this isn't going to work. _We_ aren't going to work."

"I know," he says, "it's just hard for me."

"Why?"

"Because I feel really dumb right now, and now that I see how upset I've made you… how many of these bars have you eaten?" he asks, indicating the now half-empty pan on the table.

"More than I should," she says. "They're melting a bit now, I should put them back in the fridge," she adds, absently.

"I'm confused and a little freaked out," Arthur blurts suddenly.

"Oh," Gwen says. _I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that._ "What about?"

"My feelings."

"You don't know how you feel?"

"No, I know how I feel. I'm just…"

"Confused and freaked out by it?"

He nods. Then, closing his eyes, he whispers, "Truth." He's not sure exactly what she'll ask, but at this point, he needs to give her the control, let her ask what she wants to know.

"Why?" she asks.

 _She would pick the hard question._ "Because I've never felt like this about anyone ever before," he quietly admits. "It's like… when I'm not with you I feel like someone has taken something from me. I… I've had other girlfriends in the past, obviously, but I've never felt the… _intensity_ of feeling that you seem to bring out."

 _Whoa._ Gwen is speechless. _Is he saying he loves me? Dare I ask? No. Don't. Not until you are certain as well._

"Say something," he whispers.

"I suppose that can be confusing and scary," she answers.

"I dated this one girl for over a year and I never felt…"

 _He never felt like her like he does about me,_ Gwen finishes mentally, nodding. "I know," she whispers.

"You do?" he asks, looking up suddenly.

"I do. This week, when I didn't see you… it sounds really stupid," she stops, shaking her head.

"No, please tell me," he asks.

"I felt… lost. And then when I began to think that you were avoiding me, it was like someone was stepping on my chest."

"Oh, Guinevere, I'm so sorry about that," he says, his voice pained, and finally he crosses to sit beside her on the couch. "I don't know what I was thinking." He takes her hand in between his.

"You were thinking that you could sort your feelings out if you stayed away from me," she whispers

He nods. "Didn't work. I only ended up more confused."

Gwen nods.

"I do feel better now, actually," he admits, but then he furrows his brow. "How about you? Can you forgive me?"

"I'll take it under advisement," she says, smiling a small smile.

Arthur opens his mouth, then closes it again. He doesn't know what to say, so he leans in and kisses her, softly but ardently, pouring his soul into her until she cannot even remember her own name.

"Truth," Gwen whispers when their lips part, gasping for air.

"Do… do you feel the same?" he asks, his eyes closed, as if he is afraid to see her reaction to the question.

"The same…" she whispers still, "the same overwhelming, all-encompassing desire… no, _need_ to be with you, the same bewildering feeling of abandonment when we are apart, the same sense of completeness, contentment… just _rightness_ when we're together? That same?"

He nods, his face in her neck, his hands gripping her waist.

"Yes. I do," she answers, and she feels him breathe again, exhaling heavily against her. "And of course I forgive you," she adds, running her fingers into his hair.

Arthur's phone rings and he slowly pulls away from her and pulls it from his pocket.

"You really know how to ruin a moment, Dad," he mutters, then swipes his finger across the screen.

Gwen watches him, taken aback at the redness rimming his eyes.

"Hello," he answers.

"No, I told Elana that I was gone for the day, didn't she tell you?"

"Yes, well she's a complete flake, I definitely told her. I wasn't feeling well."

"No. Honestly, I have no idea. I really wasn't paying attention. Not feeling well, remember?"

"Most likely. I just need some rest, I think. No, don't send over any soup, I'll be fine. Really. Thanks, Dad, 'bye." He sets his phone to silent and places it on the table beside the pan. Then he reaches for a bar.

"Whoa, these are really soft," he says, quickly depositing the small square into his mouth before his hand becomes a mess of caramel and chocolate. Then he picks up the pan and takes it to the kitchen to put it back in the fridge.

"Arthur?" Gwen calls after him. "What… what made you come over?"

"I got your text, obviously. Who saw me?"

"Merlin."

"Ah. I was wondering if it was you."

"If I had seen you there, you would have known before now," she says, raising her eyebrow at him as he sits at the end of the couch and motions for her to come over into his arms.

"So I'm fortunate that Merlin spotted me and not you," he says, pulling her back against him, snuggling her into his chest.

"Yes. But from what Merlin says, you weren't noticing much of anything during your lunch."

"I don't even know if I finished it."

"What took you so long?" she asks, turning her face to look up at him.

"What?"

"It was nearly two hours between my text and your appearance. I fell asleep, actually."

"Oh. I didn't get the text right away because I was… wait for it… in a meeting."

Gwen actually laughs.

"A real one, honest."

"Oh, is that what you were talking about to your father when you said you weren't paying attention?"

"Yep. As soon as I saw your text, I ran upstairs to your office, but you were gone."

"You did?"

"Yes. And I must say that Merlin gave me rather a frosty reception. Wasn't surprised then, even less surprised now, now that I know he was the one that caught me."

"That was pretty stupid," she says, and he pokes her in the ribs. "Hey!"

"Yeah, it was. Obviously wasn't thinking clearly."

They sit quietly for a bit, Gwen cozy in Arthur's embrace, staring at the television. It's been on the whole time, on the Food Network, ignored.

"I've seen this one," Arthur says after a time. "Morimoto wins."

"Morimoto wins 98% of the time, Arthur. He's scary good."

"Too bad it's not Battle Avocado, though," Arthur teases.

"I would have to turn it off," Gwen says, settling against him more now, using him as her mattress, pillow, and teddy bear all in one.

"I love how you feel cuddled against me," he mutters into her hair.

"You are very comfortable," she says, smiling. "Arthur?"

He looks down at her, running his hand along her arm, caressing from elbow to shoulder and back down again. "Truth," he says, sensing a question coming.

"What scared you away on Sunday?"

"It's bizarre," he warns.

"Try me."

"Lance did."

"Lance?" she turns and looks up at him again, and he leans down and kisses her.

"Yes. I didn't like the way he was… leering at you at the dinner Saturday night. He's got it bad for you, and I know you're not interested, but it still made me jealous. Unreasonably so, given the short time we've been together. I wanted to walk around the table and punch him, if for no other reason than to mess up his good-looking face a little."

"So your own jealousy made you realize the, um, depth of feeling you have for me, and you freaked."

"I think so."

"That's actually… kind of sweet, Arthur," she says.

"In a twisted kind of way."

She laughs, turning her face into his chest.

"Can I stay tonight?" he asks.

"Do you really think you need to ask?"

"Well, after today, yes," he admits. "I don't have any clothes, though. For tomorrow."

"Hmm." _He should keep some emergency supplies here,_ Gwen finds herself thinking.

"Tell you what," he says, tilting her face up, kissing her nose. "I'll take you out to eat," he kisses her forehead, "then we'll stop at my place," he kisses her cheek, "and I'll grab some things," he kisses her lips, "and then we can come back here," he kisses her lips again, longer.

"Or," she pulls away, "we can go to your place," she kisses his chin, "and you can get your stuff," she kisses his neck, "and then we can go to the market," his neck again, "and then come back here and cook dinner," she moves back to his lips, "and eat here," kisses his lips again, "alone."

He captures her lips and squeezes her tightly, lingering over her, kissing her softly.

"I like the way you think."


	6. Chapter 6

_Ding._

"Shit, my phone!" Gwen exclaims as the elevator doors open on the first floor. She and Arthur were about to head home for the day, back to her house for a little dinner and an evening in.

"Did you leave it?" Arthur asks, looking down at her.

"Yeah. You go on ahead, I'll just go back up and get it and meet you at my house," she tells him. "There's a spare key in the back garden under a pot of petunias," she adds quietly just before the doors slide closed again.

"Okay," she just hears him say.

 _What do petunias look like?_ Arthur thinks as he walks to his car. _Hopefully it'll be obvious when I get there._

 _I was going to suggest dropping my car off at my place so we didn't have two cars again,_ he thinks, climbing into the driver's seat. They actually spent the previous night apart, in their own homes and their own beds, and both shyly agreed this morning that it kind of sucked.

 _Are we moving too fast? It doesn't feel like it,_ Arthur muses as he navigates the now-familiar route to Gwen's cozy house.

Gwen grabs her phone, shoves it in her purse without looking at it, and hurries back to the lift, ready to go home for the week. She idly thinks about possible things she and Arthur might do over the weekend as the lift starts to descend. It stops one floor down.

 _Great,_ Gwen thinks as the doors open and an older, distinguished-looking man strides in, looking as though he is King of the Lift.

She smiles politely at him and the doors slide closed again.

"Excuse me, but you're Guinevere, aren't you?" the man asks.

"Um, yes, I am. I'm sorry, but…" she answers, wondering how this man knows her. She doesn't recall having seen him before.

"Forgive me, I'm Uther Pendragon. Arthur's father," he introduces himself, extending his hand.

"Oh!" Gwen exclaims, shaking his hand. "Um, pleased to meet you, sir," she recovers herself and smiles again, maintaining her composure while her insides are churning and her heart is thumping.

 _Not exactly the venue in which I expected to meet Arthur's father, but oh well,_ she tells herself, willing herself to calm down.

"You work for my friend Gaius Richards, I understand," Uther says.

 _He seems pleasant enough,_ Gwen thinks. "Yes. He's excellent to work for," she says, figuring a little light flattery couldn't hurt.

"I imagine so. He's a top-notch bloke," Uther nods. "He speaks highly of you as well."

"Does he?" Gwen asks, surprised.

"Yes. He told me he saw Arthur at your clients' dinner last weekend, so naturally I was curious. Arthur, of course, speaks highly of you, but I fear his opinion may be somewhat biased. According to him, you hung the moon in the sky," he chuckles, and Gwen laughs a little too, but she blushes as well.

The lift reaches the first floor again, and the doors slide open. "It was nice meeting you, sir," Gwen says, stepping forward when he holds his hand out in gentlemanly fashion, indicating that she should exit first.

"The pleasure was all mine, dear," Uther says, smiling at her. "I've seen you here and there when you've popped down to have lunch with my son, but I hadn't yet gotten the opportunity to corner him and ask about meeting you. So this was fortuitous."

"Um, yes," she smiles back, standing with him in the lobby.

"I do apologize for the surprise of it, though," he allows. He had noticed how she seemed nervous, slightly fidgety. "I daresay you probably would have liked a bit of warning before meeting your boyfriend's father," he adds, grinning at her.

 _Ah, that's where Arthur gets that impish grin from._ "Was it that obvious?" she asks, sagging a little with relief.

"Don't worry about it, Guinevere," he laughs. "Arthur likes you, so I like you. I trust him."

"Thank you, sir. And please, call me Gwen. Most people do," she says.

"Oh? Arthur only ever seems to call you Guinevere," he observes.

"Yeah, he does that," she shrugs.

"It's getting dark," Uther says, looking outside. "Let me walk you to your car."

"Thank you," she says, and they start out.

"And please, Gwen, do call me Uther."

Gwen smiles. _He's not a bad guy at all,_ she thinks, sliding into her car, waving as he closes her door for her.

 _I'd better call Arthur and let him know I'm on my way,_ she thinks, pulling out her phone. _I didn't count on getting stuck chatting to his dad._

Gwen swipes her phone to life and sees a text message waiting. She pokes it.

_G, I'm in town for 24. See you at the house._

Gwen stares at the message for a second, her heart thumping again for a completely different reason.

"Shit," she repeats, scrolling through her contact list.

xXx

"Oi! Just what do you think you're doing?"

An unfamiliar voice startles Arthur and he releases the large terra cotta pot he had just tilted up and dragged a bit, hoping that _this_ one was holding petunias.

He turns around and sees a young man standing there, a cricket bat in his right hand and his mobile in his left.

"I could very well ask you the same thing," Arthur answers. "I happen to know that this is not your house."

"Neither is it yours," the man answers, stepping forward.

Arthur looks at him. _He looks familiar. Where have I seen this guy? His eyes. They're the same as Guinevere's. Shit, what is her brother's name again?_ "Elyan?" he asks hesitantly, and the man stops.

"Who the hell are you and how do you know my name?" he asks, his face stormy.

"My name is Arthur Pendragon. I'm Guinevere's boyfriend," Arthur says simply. "I've seen your picture. In there," he points to the house.

"Boyfriend?" Elyan says, incredulous. Then his mobile rings and he nearly drops his bat.

"G," he answers, "there's a—"

"Elyan, my boyfriend is coming over ahead of me, and… wait. He's there already, isn't he?" she says, changing horses midstream once what he started saying connected.

"Well, there's a bloke here _claiming_ that he's your boyfriend. He's moving around your potted plants."

Gwen laughs. "That would be him." _I knew I should have been more specific._

"What does he look like?" Elyan asks, narrowing his eyes at Arthur.

 _Oh, good grief,_ Arthur thinks, rolling his eyes now.

"Six feet tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, handsome, well-built," Gwen says.

"He does meet that description. What's his name?"

"Arthur Pendragon," Gwen answers.

"Do you have some ID?" Elyan asks Arthur.

"What?" Arthur says, starting to lose patience now.

" _Elyan,_ " Gwen snaps at him. "I just heard his voice. That's him. Now stop being a dick and let him in the bloody house. I'll be there in five. Order us some pizza." And she hangs up on him.

Elyan stares at his phone, dumbstruck. Arthur tries not to laugh. "Come on, then," Elyan grumbles, thoroughly chastised.

"Thank you," Arthur says politely, reaching for his backpack and following Gwen's brother in the back door.

"What kind of pizza do you like?" Elyan asks. "I'm supposed to order us some."

"I'm not too picky," Arthur says, "just order whatever you and Guinevere like, and I'm sure I'll be fine."

Arthur helps himself to a bottle of ale, also grabbing one for Elyan, and sits at the kitchen table while Elyan orders, tapping his fingers on the table.

Elyan reappears, and Arthur asks, "So, you're on leave? Guinevere says you're a Marine, right?"

Elyan nods, opening his bottle. "Twenty-four hours, then I'm back to Kabul," he slumps in his chair. "Thought I'd pop in on my big sister this time. Sorry I surprised you," he chuckles.

"Understood, you had no idea who I was. For all you knew I was a burglar or a rapist, lurking about your sister's back garden," Arthur says.

"Exactly," Elyan nods.

"In an £800 Armani suit," he adds, smirking.

Elyan blinks, looking at him now. Really looking. "Oh…"

"Elyan!" Gwen's voice shouting interrupts them.

"Kitchen," Arthur calls. Elyan glares at him. "She was going to find you anyway," Arthur chuckles.

She strides into the kitchen, drops her purse on the table, and smacks her brother along the back of his head.

"Ow!" Elyan complains. "Is that any way to greet your only brother?"

"When he's been unreasonably hassling my boyfriend, yes."

"Guinevere, it's all right. He was just looking out for you," Arthur says. "We're cool. Right?"

"Yeah, I apologized and everything," Elyan says. "Now can I have a hug at least?"

"Well, all right, but we just met…" Arthur answers, and Gwen laughs.

"Come here, idiot," Gwen holds her arms out and hugs her brother. "Thank you for staying alive," she whispers.

"Yeah, I just do like you tell me," he smiles, kissing her cheek.

"Good. Pizza ordered?" she asks.

"Yes, sausage and mushroom for you, everything for me. Arthur said he didn't care. I _did_ ask."

Gwen glances at Arthur, who nods.

"I'm going to go change," she declares. As she walks from the room, she spies Arthur's backpack leaning against the table, and she picks it up and carries it back to her room with her.

 _I guess I'm still staying,_ Arthur thinks. He glances at Elyan, who watches the pack swinging from his sister's hand through narrowed eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?" Arthur asks suddenly.

"Um, sure."

"Do you know what petunias look like?"

"What?"

"I was looking for the spare key out there. She said it was under a pot of petunias. I have no bloody idea what a petunia looks like," he stands and walks to the window.

"Me neither, mate," Elyan says, standing beside him. They stare out at the collection of pots on the patio.

"I only checked under that one," Arthur says. "And since it was the wrong one, it's still a mystery."

"What is?" Gwen asks, standing and puzzling at them staring out the window. She's changed into a tank top and pajama shorts, her hair back in a ponytail.

"Petunias," Elyan answers.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I realized my mistake too late." She walks to the window, nudging in between them. "That one. The red ones. On the right."

"Oh. Well, live and learn," Arthur shrugs.

"Gwen, I don't think I like the thought of you having a key to the house out in the garden. I mean, what if someone finds it?" Elyan says, moving back into Protector mode again.

"Elyan, it's been there forever, you know that."

"Well, yes, but that was before you were alone here. When we all lived here, that was different."

She sighs. "Fine, but the next time I accidentally lock myself out, I'm sending you the locksmith's bill."

"How often does that happen?" Arthur asks.

"More than I'd care to admit," Gwen says. "The door is a little temperamental."

"Hmm," Arthur frowns.

"What? Not you, too."

"I'm afraid I agree with Elyan. You should have that lock fixed, at the very least," he says.

"See?" Elyan says, triumphant.

"Arthur, you're still in your suit. Go change," she tells him.

 _Okay, definitely staying, but I am getting the feeling I'm being dismissed,_ Arthur thinks, but he just says, "Be right back, then," and deposits a kiss on her cheek before he heads back to Gwen's room.

As he walks away, he hears Elyan ask, "He treats you well? You're happy?"

"Very," she answers. "He's the best…" her voice fades, but Arthur grins.

Arthur changes into his own comfy sleep shorts and a t-shirt that says _Oxford University_ across the front. He can hear Guinevere and her brother talking, their voices muffled. He can't make out the words, but they seem to be bickering about something.

 _Well, at least it's nice to know that it's not just my sister and me that behave that way,_ he thinks, deciding to head to the bathroom quick before returning, to give them some more time to discuss whatever they're discussing in private.

He just comes out of the bathroom, and the doorbell rings. Their voices stop momentarily, and Arthur yells, "I got it," grabs his wallet from where he placed it on the dresser, and walks through to get the door.

As he passes by the kitchen, their voices come clearer.

"…honestly, Elyan, why the hell does that even matter?"

"I guess it doesn't, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't know. I just want to make sure you're happy, that's all."

"I am. So drop it. And need I remind you that my mother…"

 _Strange. Something about me, obviously,_ Arthur thinks, opening the door for the pizza delivery man.

 _Well, delivery boy. He can't be more than seventeen._ Arthur pays the guy, tips him generously, and carries the pizza boxes back to the kitchen. He can still hear them talking.

"Coming back with pizzas, so you might want to stop talking about me," he calls as he walks.

"Sorry," Gwen says to him when he enters the room, shooting a glare at her brother.

"He's allowed to be concerned about you," Arthur says casually. "Even though he has no reason for worry, I promise," he adds, looking at Elyan now.

"Um… how much do I owe for the pizzas?" Elyan asks, redirecting.

Arthur waves him off, and while Elyan smiles and says, "Thanks, mate," Gwen sighs. "I was going to get tonight," she protests.

"Next time," Arthur tells her.

"You've said that the last three times," she turns, one hand holding some paper plates, the other hand on her hip.

"Oh, have I?" he asks innocently.

"Arthur…"

"All right, next time, I _promise_ I'll… _try_ to let you buy."

"You are such a Neanderthal sometimes," she huffs. "Let's take these to the living room," she indicates the pizzas. Arthur grabs drinks, Elyan takes the pizzas, and Gwen leads the way with plates and napkins.

"I'm a Neanderthal because I like to buy? Gotta spend it somewhere; and it may as well be on you," he says simply.

Gwen ducks her head and smiles. She knows Arthur has cash to spare, thanks to his father and the fact that, with the exception of his car, his apartment, and his business clothes, he buys very little outside of food and gasoline. She also knows that his oh-so-attractive red and green plaid shorts with tiny cartoon reindeers scattered about were bought on day-after-Christmas clearance.

All Elyan can think is _Bloody hell, how loaded_ is _this guy?_

"Ooo, breadsticks, too, thanks, El," Gwen gushes when she opens the top box.

xXx

"Arthur, can you help me a minute?" Gwen calls from the kitchen. She had muttered something about dessert and padded back there, leaving the men to their Heinekens and their football.

"Um, sure," he says, setting his bottle down, eyes not leaving the set as he walks backwards out of the room. A missed goal brings a curse word from his lips and he turns around to go to the kitchen when the game goes to commercial.

"What can I help you with, my sweet?" Arthur asks, strolling casually in, stopping in his tracks when he sees the look on her face as she stands there, leaning back against the counter.

"Dare," she whispers, beckoning him forward, and he staggers forward as though he is being pulled.

"Your brother will have my head – or another choice part of my anatomy – if I say what I'm thinking right now," he mutters. Her hand grabs the front of his t-shirt and pulls him to her, his hands finding her waist by instinct alone.

"You'll just have to owe me, then," she says, pulling his head down to hers for a kiss, her tongue immediately seeking his out as one hand winds into his hair, the other still clutching his shirt.

He leans into her, abandoning rational thought in favor of blissful sensation, wrapping her in his arms while they kiss, holding her as close as he dares.

"Oh, God, you are cruel," he groans, pulling away before he is unable to do so.

"Sorry," she giggles.

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not. But I needed that, thank you," she says, kissing the side of his jaw.

"Your brother is going to know something's up," Arthur warns, trying to pull away, but she holds him fast.

As if on cue, Elyan's voice comes drifting back. "When the two of you are done snogging back there, would one of you bring me a fresh one?"

"See?" Arthur says, and Gwen laughs. "We still have some of those caramel things, don't we?" he asks, realizing suddenly that he just used the 'w' word. Twice.

"Yeah, I just put them in a smaller container," she says. "They're right there," she says as Arthur opens the fridge for two more Heinekens. "No, _there,_ " she corrects. "The orange container."

"Ah," Arthur grabs it and hands it to her so he can take the beers. "Do you need another?" he asks, brandishing a bottle at her.

"No, thanks," she says, smiling to herself as they walk back to the living room. _We. Such a little word, such big connotations._

xXx

"Can I ask what you and Elyan were arguing about?" Arthur asks later, cuddled in Guinevere's very comfortable bed with her, her soft warm body pressed against his side.

"He was being a complete git," she sighs. "Honestly, I don't know what his problem was. It looked like the two of you were getting along," she says.

"We were. I thought so, anyway. What did he say?"

"I don't even want to tell you… but he just looked at me and said, 'Another white guy?'"

"Another?" Arthur asks, blinking.

" _That's_ the detail you grabbed?" she asks, not knowing whether to be amused or irritated.

"Sorry," he says, kissing her forehead. "Continue."

She sighs. "Yes, I've dated other white guys. I've also dated black guys. Hell, Lance has stopped vying for my attention, but there was a time I thought about going out with him, and he's half… Chilean or Argentinean or something. Wonder what El would have said about that? Honestly, I don't understand why he's so hung up on it."

"Um, wasn't your mother white?" Arthur asks.

"Yes, but his wasn't. My father remarried after my mom died, as you know, and Elyan's mother was black. And somehow he tends to conveniently _forget_ that detail about me. So I did have to gently remind him that I am both black and white and if he thinks I should risk missing out on something really special by limiting my choices, then he's an ignorant fool."

"Not only that, he might be missing out on something himself if that's how he's living _his_ life," Arthur adds, caressing her back softly, comfortingly. "It's about the person, not their skin. Though I will admit that I do quite like yours." He runs one finger softly down her cheek.

Gwen smiles up at him, kissing him. "My point exactly. And if he's going to only choose from a select pool, that's his problem. His _choice._ I do try to not get involved in his affairs, hoping that he'll get the message to keep his stupid nose out of mine," she says, snuggling into him.

They lay together quietly for a time. Arthur isn't sure what to do. He knows what he _wants_ to do, but Elyan's goodnight keeps drifting back to him.

_Good night. Do remember I am across the hall. If I hear anything… unpleasant, I cannot guarantee that my battle training won't kick in automatically._

"You owe me a dare from earlier," Gwen says quietly, nuzzling his neck and slyly slipping her hand up under his t-shirt to run her hand along his skin.

"Your brother is across the hall, Guinevere," he says, clamping his hand over hers, attempting to still it through his t-shirt.

"He sleeps like a dead person, Arthur," she says, worming her hand free and moving it up over his chest, her thumb brushing deliberately against his nipple.

"Yes, well, I don't want to take any chances," he says, closing his eyes now, fighting the urge to pounce.

"Honestly, Arthur, what did he do, threaten you?"

"A little."

"He won't hear a thing," she says, sliding her hand down now, teasing her fingers under the waistband of his shorts.

He groans pinches his eyes closed.

"Here," she says, and before he knows what's happening, Gwen starts shouting, "Oh! Oh, God! Arth—"

He clamps his hand over her mouth. "Are you trying to get me killed?" he asks, incredulous, his wide eyes locked on the bedroom door while Gwen giggles like mad.

A few minutes pass, and finally Gwen says, "See?"

"Well, then," Arthur says, a crafty look crossing his face, "in that case," he leans over her, trapping her beneath him.

"I dare you to be quiet," he whispers against her lips, nibbling lightly.

"You could have just started with that, you know," she says. "But you are still evil."

"I have not yet begun to be evil," Arthur purrs, purposely pronouncing it "ee-ville" and raising his eyebrow.

"What…"

Arthur works his way down, pulling off her tank top and tossing it aside. He kisses his way to her breasts, capturing a waiting nipple between his lips, running his tongue over it.

She sighs and arches beneath him. He reaches down for her shorts, sliding them down and off. He glides his hand back up her leg, moving it around between her thighs, gently nudging, parting them.

"Oh," she breathes, and he starts kissing downward, across her stomach, briefly dipping his tongue into her navel before heading lower.

"Oh, no…" she mutters, trying to close her legs on him as he scoots between them.

"Oh, yes…" he answers, gently biting the inside of her thigh before running his tongue along her skin, heading towards his target.

"You are not playing fff…" she bites her lip when she feels his tongue slide against her, slow and languid, circling.

"Ah," she breathes, squirming under his ministrations, his tongue swirling and flicking her sensitive flesh. He moves and thrusts his tongue up inside her, then back out and in again, and her hands grope blindly, clutching the blankets, his hair, her own breasts.

He moves his tongue out again and he traces it along her contours, circling and flicking again.

Then Arthur slides two fingers inside her, adding to his sweet torture. Gwen grabs his pillow and presses it to her face, sinking her teeth into it and groaning, using the pillow to muffle the sound.

"Cheating," Arthur lifts his head to chastise lightly, and she pushes him back down with one hand, the other still clutching the pillow.

He slides his fingers in and out while he licks and suckles her nub, pushing her over the edge.

Gwen lets sensation overtake her and she shouts into the pillow as her climax engulfs her, clutching it to her face, a muffled garble of sound. Arthur surfaces, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and kisses her stomach.

She pulls the pillow away from her face, takes one look at him, and says, "You're not done yet, are you?" It's not really a question.

"My turn," he says, prowling up over her body, yanking his shirt off in the process. She reaches down and pulls his shorts down, and he pulls them the rest of the way off.

"Mmm," he hums into her neck, kissing the soft sensitive skin there as he plunges forward into her, wasting no time at all.

"Oh!" she exclaims, her voice breathy. She grabs his head and pulls his lips to hers, kissing him fiercely, possessing his lips, holding him to her to keep her quiet.

"Am…" he manages, "am I… the substitute… pillow?"

"Yes," she answers, silencing him with her tongue. He picks up his pace, her greedy tongue igniting something inside him.

"Oh, God," Arthur groans softly, tearing his lips away for just a moment before diving back in, locking his lips over hers once more as they battle for dominance inside each other's mouths. He thrusts a few more times, her legs around his waist now, pulling him close. He makes one final thrust, throwing his head back and burying himself deep, his hand on her breast, and he clenches his jaw together as he comes, trying not to make any noise himself now.

Gwen clutches his shoulders, and a soft giggle escapes her lips when she sees him struggling to be quiet.

Arthur drops over her, exhausted and spent, and kisses her ear. "Shh," he says, and she slaps him on the shoulder.


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur is watching, amused, as Elyan attempts to fold the laundry he brought with him (earning him another scolding). He folds a garment and sets it on the table. Gwen then picks it up, re-folds it properly, and replaces it.

Arthur has been trying to decide how long it will take Gwen to just shove Elyan out of the way and do it herself. He had just realized that she's intentionally doing what she's doing just to make Elyan ask her to do it for him when his mobile springs to life.

"Leon," Arthur answers, immediately apologizing, "I am _so_ sorry, mate, the response card is on my kitchen counter."

Gwen looks at him. _Response card?_

"No, I'm a terrible friend, sorry. Sorry. I just haven't been home much lately," he says, his eyes resting on Gwen for a moment, winking at her.

"Yeah," he says sheepishly.

"Well, I'll definitely be there, but hang on, I'll ask her," Arthur says, then addresses Gwen. "Guinevere, are you free, um, three weeks from today?"

"Pretty sure I am, yes, why?"

"My mate Leon is getting married. And I believe you owe me a plus-one," he grins at her.

"I _owe_ you?"

"Well, I very nearly died of boredom being your plus-one, so yes, I do believe you owe me. Though a fair trade would be the next insurance seminar I have to attend."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me," he grins at Gwen and then returns to Leon. "Yes, put me down for two."

"Oh. What are the choices?"

"Guinevere, would you prefer prime rib or roast duck?"

Elyan nearly chokes on his orange juice.

"Oh. Um, prime rib," she answers, glancing at her brother, who has recovered enough to make a face at her that clearly says _Ooo, posh._

"Prime rib for both of us," Arthur relays. "What? That, too? Mithian's dad's gone all out, then, hasn't he?"

Gwen furrows her brows, wondering what now.

"And how would madame like her prime rib cooked?" Arthur asks in a snooty voice.

"Bloody hell," Gwen mutters, then answers, "Medium rare."

"Good girl," Arthur nods. "Both medium rare. Of course."

He laughs then, and says, "Okay, sorry again. Tell Mithian that I most humbly beg her forgiveness and that she should call off the hounds."

Arthur laughs again, then, "Well, of course. Yeah. Later, mate."

"He said that I need to get a more expensive wedding present now as a sign of my remorse," Arthur explains.

Gwen laughs. "I haven't met Leon, have I?"

"Don't think so. You may have seen him; he works for my father. That's how I know him, through work. Tall, thin bloke, longish curly brown hair, short beard."

"Hmm. Vaguely familiar. Probably recognize him if I saw him. Three weeks, you say?"

"Yep."

"Well, that will give me some time to find something to wear, then."

"Oh yeah, probably should tell you. It's formal."

"Great."

xXx

"Bye, Brother," Gwen says quietly, hugging Elyan tightly. He is now dressed in his fatigues, his ride waiting at the curb outside Gwen's house. "Keep your head down," she tells him, her standard farewell, wiping her eyes now and kissing his cheek.

"I always do," he says, smiling at her. "Stop crying, I'll be fine," he reassures her. His standard farewell to her.

"Arthur, nice to meet you. If you hurt my sister, I will kill you. Just so you know," he says, but there is no ire in his voice or in his eyes. Somewhere in between last night and this morning he realized that he actually _likes_ Gwen's boyfriend.

"Yes, and if you go off and get killed on your sister, I'll… um, re-kill you…" Arthur says, and they both laugh. Arthur holds out his hand. "Be safe, mate."

Elyan takes his hand and, surprising both Arthur and Gwen, pulls Arthur into a brief bro-hug before muttering, "Her birthday is next Thursday. In case you didn't know."

"Thanks for the tip," Arthur answers.

"You're all right, mate," Elyan says, clapping Arthur companionably on the shoulder before turning back to Gwen

"Oh, so he's all right now?" she asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Yeah," Elyan admits. "You know I would have found something wrong with whomever you happen to be dating, though, don't you?"

Gwen sighs and shakes her head, exasperated.

Elyan chuckles and shrugs. "No one is ever going to be good enough for my big sister," he says.

Elyan's friend honks his horn. Elyan turns and makes a rude hand gesture at him before crushing his sister in a tight hug one more time.

Gwen returns his hug and kisses his cheek. "Adam's getting impatient," she says, seeing Elyan's ride craning his neck now, looking to see what's taking so long.

"Yeah, yeah…" Elyan calls, heading for the car now.

Arthur and Gwen watch the car pull down the street. Gwen sniffles and Arthur wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm glad I got to meet him," Arthur says. "You probably never know quite when he'll turn up, huh?"

"No," she sniffs. Then she remembers. "Oh my God! I completely forgot! I got so wrapped up in Elyan being here that I forgot to tell you that I met your father!"

"You did? When?"

"In the lift yesterday, of all places," she laughs.

He raises an eyebrow at her, which just makes her laugh harder.

"He was a perfect gentleman. Very nice. Even walked me to my car because it was getting dark out."

"So did he recognize you?" Arthur asks as they walk back inside.

"Yes. Said he'd seen me when we, um, have _lunch_ in your office, but hadn't yet gotten the opportunity to get you to introduce us."

"Ah. That would likely be my fault."

"Perhaps if we actually ate lunch for a change…"

Arthur snorts. "Well, I'm glad you met, even if I wasn't there."

"It was a little daunting, I'll admit," she says, sinking down on the couch.

"Sorry."

"Mostly just because I wasn't expecting it. And your father is a bit… imposing. He was trying not to be, I can tell, but I don't think he can help it."

Arthur laughs, pulling her against him and kissing her head.

"So what shall we do with our day?" Arthur asks, smiling at her. He's very much looking forward to spending the next 24-plus hours alone with her.

"Well, since it seems we have a wedding to go to in a few weeks, I think I'd like to go shopping."

"Shopping?" he repeats, wincing slightly.

"I have nothing appropriate to wear. You said it was formal, and I've got nothing nice enough."

"Do I get to help choose?"

"If you behave," she smiles.

"Don't I always?"

"You didn't last night," she shoots back, but the grin doesn't leave her face.

xXx

Arthur is driving them home from their fruitful shopping trip, where he more than happily helped Gwen pick out dresses and even enjoyed his own personal fashion show while she tried them on. He was the official zipper and un-zipper, un-zipping being the more fun of the two tasks because he kept sneaking kisses onto her shoulders and neck and back in the process.

Once he tried to slip into the dressing room with her, but the glower from an older saleswoman and Gwen pointing to the security cameras effectively put a stop to _that_ particular thought.

In the end she chose a lovely dark burgundy dress, long and elegant, highlighting her lovely collarbones with its wide neckline and her narrow waist and curvy hips with its cinched waistline and flowing skirt.

She was quite happy with the dress until Arthur attempted to pay for it, ensuing in a small argument that Guinevere won by threatening to put it back and not go to the wedding with him.

 _"I have a very good job and will buy my own dress, Arthur," she declared then, plunking it down in front of the embarrassed sales girl. "I get that you like buying me things, I do," she said, softening. "But this would be too much."_ Right now, anyway. _The thought popped unbidden into her brain. She chalked it up to the fact that they're buying the dress to go to a wedding._

_Arthur pouted slightly, but seemed to understand. "I just wanted…"_

_"I know. But you don't have to take care of me that way, and I think we're past the point where you need to try to impress me."_

_"Somehow I don't think that waving my credit card around would have impressed you much, anyway," he smirked, lifting her hand and kissing it now while the salesgirl looked on jealously, no doubt thinking that she'd happily let Arthur buy her anything he wanted to._

At a traffic light, they sit quietly, looking around at the shops surrounding them. Arthur's gaze falls on a small storefront kind of wedged in between two other shops. The name in small letters over the door reads _Adam and Eve's._

"Have you ever been in one of those shops?" he asks, pointing.

"What, a porn store?" Gwen asks.

"Yeah."

"No. You?"

"Mmmmaybe…" he says evasively.

"Maybe?" she echoes, raising her eyebrows at him suspiciously.

"So you've never been…" he muses, ignoring her challenge. "In that case, I dare you to go in there and buy something."

"I didn't ask for a dare!" she exclaims. The light changes, and Arthur pulls into a nearby parking spot. "That's cheating," she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Okay, you are too cute like that, stop," he laughs. "I'll go in with you, obviously."

"Well, I suppose that's comforting," she says.

"Right. You never know what kind of seedy perverts you might find in there," Arthur says, switching off the ignition and getting out of the car.

Gwen follows, looking around slightly. "What if someone sees me go in here?"

"So what?" Arthur shrugs. "We are two adults in a consensual relationship, and if we want to get our freak on, that's our business," he says, grinning and taking her hand to pull her to the door.

She laughs, and just before going inside, says, "Okay, but I dare _you_ to buy something as well, then."

"Oh, really?" he stops and looks at her, arching one eyebrow slyly.

_Oh, no._

They step inside and the skinny young man with a pierced face behind the counter glances up at them, disinterested, and goes back to his gaming magazine.

 _It is like a toy store for very naughty adults,_ Gwen thinks, trying not to blush. "Gee, I only see one seedy pervert in here," she teases him.

"Fuzzy handcuffs?" Arthur asks by way of response to her taunt, holding up a hot pink pair. Gwen giggles. "Why are they always pink?" he mumbles, putting them back down. He pauses next to some mysterious board game, picking it up to read the back, and Gwen moves down the aisle, stopping in front of a shelf bearing a wide array of items, all penis-shaped.

 _Why must everything be shaped like a penis?_ she vaguely wonders, picking up a pen. _Probably because it's simple to make it into other things, given its shape._ She sets the pen down and tilts her head at a packet of drinking straws. _Probably for Hen Parties,_ she thinks. _I'm being far too logical about this._

"See anything you like?" Arthur is suddenly behind her, speaking low in her ear, and she jumps slightly in surprise. He kisses her ear.

"Ah, we have penis everything, I see," he chuckles. "Penis lollies, penis pens – would that be a pen-is, then? Penis… cookie cutters? Ouch. Penis water bottles, penis drinking straws – wow that's a big pack of them – penis pillows, penis—"

"Stop saying penis!" Gwen exclaims, laughing and clutching her stomach.

"Oh, is it bothering you, hearing me say 'penis' over and over again?" he asks. "What would you prefer? Cock? Dong? Tallywhacker? Willie? Um…" he pauses, trying to think of others, and Gwen just walks away.

"Love sausage?" he pursues her now, grinning fiendishly. "Wedding tackle? Wiener? Wang? Schlong? Trouser snake?"

"If I just ignore him, he'll stop," she mutters to herself, peeking into the back room full of DVDs and deciding to forgo it for now.

"Prince Everhard of the Netherlands!" he declares quite grandly, and Gwen loses it again, going weak with laughter. She almost rests her head against the wall, but decides against it. _Never know whose hands have been where._

"Are you quite finished?" she asks, gasping, glancing over at the disinterested employee glances up for a moment, then continues ignoring them.

"Yes, I think so," he declares, pulling her to him. "Now go find something to buy. Something good. Something… _useful,_ " he goads, squeezing her backside lightly.

"Penis cookie cutter it is, then," she says, reaching over and picking it up just to see the look on his face. "Kidding," she giggles, setting it down.

Gwen browses around, growing bolder, less shocked. _Hmm. Something to wear?_ She picks up an item on a nearby hanger that looks like it's made entirely of belts. _I wouldn't know what limb to put where,_ she thinks, replacing it on the rack.

_I would kill myself in those boots. That's just ugly. That's just… wrong. Ooo, books…_

She goes to a small rack and selects a book at random, opening it and reading a bit.

 _Oh, my._ She puts it back and walks to a shelf containing various bottles. _Edible lotion. Could be fun._ She picks up a jar and reads the label. _Stud Mud. Where on earth do they come up with these names?_ She puts it back and scans the shelf, her amusement growing with each label she reads. _Lip and Nipple Gloss? Should I be glossing my nipples? Body fondue… Motion Lotion… Spanking powder? What the hell is that?_ Then Gwen spies something that actually catches her interest. _Edible body paint. Hmmm…_

She finds Arthur studying a large display of vibrators. Different sizes, colors, styles.

"Any of them come with satellite radio and a sunroof?" she asks, sliding one arm around his waist from behind, holding the chocolate paint behind her back with the other.

"Wouldn't surprise me," he mumbles, reaching his arm back to hold her to his side. "Did you find something?"

"Mmmmaybe…" she says, mimicking his response earlier.

"What did you find?"

"Not telling yet. You?"

"Thinking about one of these," he smirks.

"Trying to render yourself moot?"

"What? Oh, um, I was actually thinking—"

"I know what you were thinking," she laughs, squeezing him. "And it is intriguing."

"It is?" he asks, looking down at her, surprised. She grins and slips from his grasp, perusing now.

She moves along a bit and sees a giant latex dildo. Giant. She sets her intended purchase down and hefts it from the shelf, finding it surprisingly heavy. It's around two feet long and is as big around as Arthur's arm. "Why?" she asks, brandishing it at him.

"Well, now, I think I'll have to be calling my lawyers," he says, striding over. "This is obviously modeled after me, and I did not consent."

Gwen starts laughing again, almost dropping it. He takes it from her and proceeds to do what any young adult male would do with a giant rubber penis: He holds it in front of his own groin and starts swinging it about.

"Hello, darlin', I've got something to show you, I have," he says, walking towards her, thrusting his hips forward.

She backs away, laughing so hard she can hardly keep her legs under her, the appeal of Silly Arthur almost too much to bear. He backs her against the wall and swats her hip with the fake member, and she snatches it out of his hands.

"Ow!" he cries out, doubling over, pretending to be in pain, but in reality he is laughing just as hard as she is.

Gwen smacks him with it on the shoulder. "You're going to get us thrown out!" she exclaims, still giggling, putting the giant penis back on the shelf.

"Oh, yes, getting thrown out of a porn store, that would be brilliant," Arthur laughs, pulling her into his arms. "My face hurts," he says. "I haven't laughed that hard in a while."

"My stomach hurts," Gwen says, leaning up to kiss him. She reaches for the item she set on the table, and holds it up for him. "Chocolate body paint," she declares.

Arthur's eyebrows rise and he unconsciously licks his lips. "Good choice," he whispers. "Come. Pick one."

He pulls her back over to the vibrators. "Pink, green, or purple?" he asks, pointing to the type he had been mulling over.

"Oh, so you know which one you want to get?" she asks.

"Just need to know which color," he says, smirking.

"Purple, of course."


	8. Chapter 8

"So who gets to go first?" Gwen asks, holding the jar of body paint, standing in the doorway of the living room.

Arthur looks up from the Macbook on his lap. He arches an eyebrow at her and smirks. "You're the artist," he challenges.

She snorts and disappears, back to the bedroom. Arthur hurriedly slams the laptop shut, fumbles with the remote to turn off the TV, and scurries after her, swearing as he bangs his shin on the coffee table.

"Nice princess sheet," he says, striving for nonchalance now as he lounges in the doorway to her bedroom.

"I don't want to get this crap on my good bedding," she says, spreading the sheet over the bed. As she bends over to smooth it out, Arthur comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her back against him.

Taking advantage of her braided hair, he kisses her neck, sliding his hands around her waist. Gwen brings her hand up to his cheek, her slender fingers trailing along his skin.

"Strip," she tells him, pulling out of his grasp.

"Mmm," he answers, guiding her hands to his shirt. "You do it."

"Awfully demanding for someone who is about to get slathered with paint," Gwen remarks, peeling his t-shirt up and off, setting it aside. She leans forward and kisses his chest, slipping her fingers to the waist of the ridiculous plaid reindeer shorts, shoving them down far enough so that they fall to his feet on their own.

"That was easy," she says, shoving him down to the bed.

"Now you," he counters, making himself comfortable, his hands up behind his head.

"Me?"

"Yes. Wouldn't want you to get your clothes dirty now," he points out, crossing his feet at his ankles now, waiting patiently.

She sighs and acquiesces, knowing she's not going to win. He watches her as she pulls her camisole tank top off, his eyes darkening with appreciative desire as her breasts are bared for him. He enjoys how her body stretches as she lifts the top over her head, how her hair falls back down, tickling the skin of her shoulders. Next her shorts slide down over her shapely hips, skimming down her legs till she steps out of them.

Clad only in a pair of black lace boyleg panties, she steps over to the bed, smirking as she notices how her meager strip show has affected Arthur physically. She opens the lid to the jar.

"Smells good," she assesses, tilting it down so Arthur can smell.

"Mmm," he agrees, moving his arms down now, reaching out with one to stroke Gwen's thigh, sliding it up to her backside and back down again.

Gwen smiles at him and picks up the brush. She dips it in the pot and touches it to his chest.

"Cold!" he exclaims, his body tensing.

"Sorry!" she giggles, but then she continues, making a curlicue pattern.

Ten minutes later she's standing over him, frowning.

He opens his eyes, having relaxed despite the repeated application of the cold chocolate paint. But she's stopped and he's curious.

"Truth," she mutters.

"What's the problem?"

"I should have bought the kit with the colors instead of chocolate," she says.

"Why is that?" he asks.

"Because you look like I've smeared you with poo."

Arthur guffaws and lifts his head. She's done really beautiful designs on him, but she's right. It looks like poo. He drops his head back and laughs. "Does it at least taste good?"

She dips her finger into the pot and licks it. "Ugh," she says, "it's all… waxy."

"Oh, that's the worst," he says, still chuckling. "When it leaves that… _film_ in your mouth…"

Gwen smacks her lips together, making a face. "I feel like a dog that's been given peanut butter," she says, reaching for a glass of water sitting nearby.

"Maybe it's better if it's, you know, licked. Off of someone's skin. Some willing volunteer," Arthur offers.

"Maybe," Gwen answers, kneeling on the bed and leaning over. She presses her tongue to his stomach, licking a painted section, feeling his stomach muscles jump as she does so.

"So?" he croaks.

"No. _You_ taste good. The paint, not so much. Instant pudding would have been better."

"So I can't do you, then?" he asks.

"Seems kind of silly," she says, pouting a little, disappointed in her purchase. She looks down, giving the jar an accusatory glare.

Arthur grabs her and pulls her over him so that she is lying on him, smearing all the paint, spreading it between them.

"Arthur!" she squeals.

"There," Arthur declares. "Now we've both been painted." He leans up and kisses her, quickly but deeply.

"You're sticky," she says.

"So are you. Let's shower."

"Ooo," Gwen answers, sliding off of him. "Oh, God, now you look worse!" she declares, laughing.

"And you look just as bad now," Arthur grins at her, sitting up.

She looks down and groans.

"Come on, love. Shower with me." He grabs her hand and pulls her to the bathroom.

"Should have gotten the fuzzy handcuffs," Gwen mutters, following.

"Hmm?" Arthur asks, turning back and raising his eyebrows.

"What?" she answers innocently. She knows he's heard her and is just testing to see if she'll say it again. She won't.

They assess their reflections in the large mirror over the sink.

"Looks slightly better on you than on me. Not so stark," Arthur says, tilting his head thoughtfully.

"If you say so," Gwen rolls her eyes and steps over to the shower, turning it on and adjusting the temperature.

"Mmm," Arthur appreciates the view as she leans into the shower. It's a stand-up shower, but large; plenty of room for both of them. He walks over and hooks his thumbs into the waist of her panties, slowly sliding them down and off, trailing his fingers down her rear and the backs of her legs as he goes.

Gwen straightens up and steps out of them, kicking them to the side as Arthur stands, pausing to deposit a kiss on her bum as he passes it. Then he bites it gently and she jumps, giggling.

"Come on," she turns and pulls him into the shower, reaching up to slide the curtain closed behind him.

"Ew," they both chorus, looking down at the brown water swirling around their feet, laughing and flexing their toes in the warm water.

"It was good in theory," Arthur says as she frowns, running his finger through some remaining paint on his chest and dotting her nose with it. "Not your fault that the product was lousy." He kisses the dot from her nose now, trying not to make a face when he realizes that she was right: it's terrible.

"I know. But I could have chosen something other than _brown._ I was blinded by the thought of…" she trails off, his lips now at her neck, his hands sliding around on her wet skin.

"The thought of what?" he lifts his head, wondering what it was she was going to say.

"The thought of licking chocolate off of you. Or of you licking chocolate off of me," she says. "Either one."

He grins at her. "Next time, we'll just use Hershey's."

She shoves his head under the water, laughing.

"Dare," he sputters, emerging from the water, shaking his hair at her.

"Wash me," she commands, thrusting the shower pouf at him.

"Ooo, just what I was hoping for," he grins. He starts to reach for some body wash, but his hand stills halfway up. _Choices._

He surveys the bottles. _Vanilla. Coconut lime. Pearberry (whatever that is). Mandarin orange. Strawberries and cream._

"It's like a dessert bar," he mutters, reaching for the strawberry and squirting it on the pouf.

"Turn around," he tells her, and she furrows her brow a moment, but turns her back on him. He steps up close behind her and brings his arms up, the pouf touching her neck first, then circling down over her shoulders, her breasts and on down, embracing her as he washes the chocolate from her body.

Gwen leans back against him, realizing that she's probably getting more chocolate on her back by doing this, but she doesn't care. _He'll wash it off._

Arthur runs the sudsy pouf down, over the coarse curls at the juncture of her thighs, down, almost to her knees before heading back upwards. She can feel him crouching behind her to reach low enough. His other hand slides between her legs as he progresses north, swirling the pouf over her breasts.

His lips find her ear, nibbling lightly now, one hand stroking between her legs as he drops the pouf to caress her wet, slippery skin with his other hand.

Gwen moans, gripping his thigh behind her, and he flicks his thumb across a nipple before pinching it lightly, feeling it stiffen between his fingers.

"Slippery," he mutters against her neck, smiling against her skin. "All slippery," he says, moving the fingers of his other hand now to illustrate his point. She squirms, sliding her backside against him, feeling his stiffness against her.

"Arthur," she whispers his name, turning in his arms, unable to help herself, crashing her lips onto his, pushing him against the wall of the shower, running her hands down his chest, invading his mouth with her tongue.

He clutches her to him, groaning, pressing his erection into her stomach, craving contact with her. She arches her body into him, remnants of soap from her torso transferring to his now, and she pulls him back into the water, rinsing them both.

"I have an idea," she whispers, guiding him to the corner of the shower and pushing him down on the seat molded into the wall.

"I like the way you think," he rumbles, holding her hips as she once again turns her back on him, straddling his knees. He leans back as best he can, dropping his head back against the corner of the shower as she lowers herself down over him, sheathing him inside her.

"Oh," she sighs, lifting up and sliding back down into his lap again. He wraps his arms around her waist and holds her still a moment, pressing his lips against her back, eyes closed, exhaling slowly against her skin.

"Mmm," she moans, dropping her head against his shoulder. Arthur loosens his grip on her, still holding her, but moving his hands to her hips, guiding her, helping her move up and down on him.

Gwen takes one of his hands and moves it up to her breast, her hand over his, and he grips the soft mound lightly, squeezing, moving his fingers to tease her stiff nipple. His other hand slides downward, circling, flicking against her swollen button, and she cries out.

"Ooo… oh… oh, yes," she purrs, encouraging him. She starts moving faster, harder, thrumming into his lap again and again, and Arthur's arms tighten around her, fingers still working, staying with her all the while as she rides him.

The spray of the hot shower hits their knees and feet. Steam swirls around them. Gwen's braid is starting to unravel, and tendrils cling to her neck, her back, Arthur's face as he buries it in her back, groaning.

"Oh… ah… don't stop… oh, God… Arthur!" Gwen gasps, slamming down over him. He comes at the same time, thrusting his hips upward into her with a shout.

She sinks down, relaxing onto his lap, and he wraps his arms around her again, holding her tightly, nuzzling her shoulder, dotting it with kisses.

"This seat is very convenient," Arthur mutters, tilting his face up to kiss her neck.

"I usually use it for shaving my legs," she tells him, and he laughs. She slides carefully off of his lap, pulling him to his feet again. "My legs are a little wobbly," she giggles.

"I'm not surprised," he grins.

"And you somehow _still_ have chocolate on you," she scowls. "Come here."

xXx

"We still have my purchase to try out, you know," Arthur says into her hair, now washed and dried. He lifts her chin from where it's tucked against his chest and kisses her lips softly.

"I know. But I am _so_ done tonight," she says sleepily, snuggling into his side.

"Yeah, I wore you out, didn't I?" Arthur says, smug. "Ow!" he exclaims when she pinches him.

"Goodnight, Arthur," she whispers, kissing his jaw.

"Goodnight, my sweet," he answers, smiling down at her, kissing her forehead.

"Should have gotten the fuzzy handcuffs," she mumbles again, and Arthur chuckles, squeezing her.


	9. Chapter 9

_I have a convention on Thursday._ Gwen looks down at the text she's just gotten from Arthur, and remembers his "plus-one" threat.

_Oh, no._

_Don't worry, you're safe. Not a plus-one kind of thing._

_Good._

"What's up?" Merlin leans over and peers over her shoulder.

"Arthur has a convention to go to Thursday."

"Sounds scintillating," Merlin says, making a face.

_It's in Dublin. I'll be gone overnight, unfortunately._

"Poo," Gwen says aloud at this last text.

_You suck._

"Merlin, how long is Freya in New York?" she asks.

"Till Saturday," he says.

"Want to go out Thursday?"

"Sure, all right."

xXx

 _Having fun?_ Gwen sends Arthur a text from the club where she and Merlin are drinking silly umbrella-clad drinks at a table.

_No. The dentist is funner._

_Funner?_

_You heard me._

"Let's send him a picture," Merlin suggests, "come here," he motions with his hand. Gwen fires up the camera in her phone and hits the button to flip the camera around so they can see themselves in the screen.

"Ooo, hold up your drink," Merlin says, picking up his cup, which is brown and shaped like a Polynesian Tiki idol.

Gwen raises her glass and presses the button on the bottom that starts the flashing lights embedded inside, giggling. Then she picks up the camera and takes the shot of her and Merlin, grinning like idiots, drinks raised. She hits _send._

_You are not funny._

_We're having one for you._ She sends back.

_Where is Freya? Are they still together?_

_Shouldn't you be paying attention to the latest trends in bilking injured people out of their money?_

_I know all those already._

_Freya's in New York till Saturday._

"Is that your girlfriend?"

"Yeah," Arthur sighs, chuckling at the picture of her and Merlin.

"Who's the skinny bloke?"

"Friend of hers. His girlfriend is in New York, I guess, so they went out." Arthur puts his phone to sleep for a bit, deciding that maybe he should pay attention somewhat.

"You trust him?"

"Percival," Arthur sighs, turning to the large man seated beside him, "of course I do. And I trust her. They work together, for pity's sake."

"She's cute," he says, deciding to shift gears.

"Here, better picture," Arthur says, firing up his phone again. His wallpaper is a photo of her, laughing, in the corner of the elevator.

_"Arthur, stop!" she gasped, clutching her stomach. Arthur had just discovered a very interesting ticklish spot, right where her thigh meets her backside, and had been torturing her for the entire ride._

_"Okay, I'll be good," he said, holding his hands up innocently._

_"I don't believe you," she said, smirking, narrowing her eyes at him as he approached._

_"You look so beautiful right now," he whispered suddenly, and her mouth fell open in surprise. "And that's why… I'm going… to…" he let the sentence drop as he kissed her deeply, holding her with one arm as he dug into his pocket with the other._

_Once he had her sufficiently distracted, the arm around her waist slid down and his long fingers squeezed that secret spot again, and she yelped._

_"Arthur!" she shrieked again, laughing despite herself._

_He was ready with the camera, capturing both the joy and the desire in her face._

"Wow," Percival comments. "She's _really_ cute."

"Hey, I know who that is," Leon leans over from Arthur's other side. "She works in our building."

"She works in your building?" Percival asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Well, it's not like she's the bloody janitor, Percival, she works on the floor above ours."

"So you work _under_ her, then?" he asks, raising his eyebrow again, but in a completely different way.

Arthur is nonplussed by his old college mate's innuendo. "Under, over, beside… whatever way she wants," he shoots back, and both Percival and Leon have to clamp their hands over their mouths to muffle their laughter.

They've already been on the receiving end of several dirty looks, in fact.

"Wait," Arthur says, "she doesn't know if she knows who you are, Leon. Lean in, guys."

Arthur takes a shot of the three of them, realizing he feels rather small between the two very tall men. He sends it to Gwen.

_My companions for the evening. I feel like I'm watching giraffes play tennis._

_I recognize the one guy,_ she sends back.

_You should, that's Leon. We're going to his wedding in a couple weeks._

"Thank God," Arthur says, standing and stretching. "That went on two hours longer than it should have. Leon, Guinevere says she does recognize you."

"She should, I helped her pick up a bunch of papers in the lobby one day. Some idiot bumped into her, and—"

"Hang on," Arthur says, his phone lighting up again.

_He helped me pick up a bunch of folders in the lobby a few months ago. Total gentleman._

"Ah, story confirmed," Arthur smiles, showing Leon.

_He was just telling me._

"I helped her pick up the papers and the folders and even helped her sort them back in order," Leon explains, finishing his story. "Jerk that bumped her never even looked back."

_He was very sweet and attentive. I was a little surprised he didn't ask me out. I guess now I know why!_

Arthur chuckles at this, and shows Leon, who smiles.

_Leon says he would have if he wasn't already spoken for._

"I didn't say that!"

"But would you have?" Arthur asks, smirking.

"Probably," Leon mumbles, his voice small. "Come on, let's hit the pub," he says, grabbing Percival's arm.

"I'm just going to go to my room," Arthur says, looking down at the picture on his phone again.

"You're sure?" Percival asks.

"Yeah, I'm a bit tired. See you in the morning."

Percival smirks, and he and Leon turn to leave, but not before making various whipping noises, complete with hand gestures.

"I'm going to text Mithian!" Arthur calls after them, and Leon stops his actions abruptly.

"Thought so," Arthur says, and heads for the lift. He texts Gwen.

_Call me when you can. I'm done for the night._

"I'm ready to go," Gwen tells Merlin, reaching for her purse.

"Arthur?" Merlin asks, a knowing grin on his face.

"Well, _yes,_ " she answers, as if it were obvious. "And it's only… 4:30 in the afternoon where Freya is, by the way," she tells him pointedly.

"Ooo. Good point," Merlin says, scurrying out behind her.

Gwen waits till she is home, cozy in bed in Arthur's Oxford t-shirt before calling him.

"Hi," he answers almost before it rings.

"You were waiting," she says, smiling.

"Of course."

"How's the convention?"

"Boring as shit. How was the club?"

"Eh," she shrugs. "More wankers than usual, it seemed."

"Any of them try to chat you up?"

"A couple. Merlin scared them away."

" _Merlin_ scared them away?"

"Why is that so surprising?"

"Merlin doesn't look like he could scare a bunny rabbit away from his lettuce plants."

"I'll tell him you said that, Mr. McGregor."

"Oh, ha ha," he says. Then after a quiet moment, "I miss you."

"I miss you, too. I'm wearing your shirt."

"Which one?"

"The Oxford t-shirt. It's all soft and it smells like you."

"I'm wearing your knickers."

"You are not!" she laughs.

"Okay, I'm not. But I do have that pair still. The one from your work party."

"You have them _with_ you?"

"Yes."

"Pervert."

"Romantic," he corrects.

"What, are you going to sleep with them under your pillow?"

"Of course not."

She waits for it.

"I'm going to put them inside my pants."

 _And there it is,_ she thinks as she laughs. "Why do I have a feeling you're serious?" she asks. He says nothing. "You've got them in your hand right now, don't you?"

"Mmmmaybe…"

She sighs, shaking her head at him, but in a weird way, it is sweet.

"Do you have Skype?" he asks suddenly.

"Yes, why, do you have your laptop with?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then why are we wasting time on the phone?" she asks, whipping back the bedcovers to go grab her laptop.

"Okay, I'm up," he says.

Gwen snorts.

"You have a dirty mind, Guinevere," he says, laughing.

"And so do you, if you know why I laughed. What's your Skype name?"

"ArthurPen."

"Okay…"

Moments later she can hear the familiar musical popping sound emitting from his computer over her phone.

"Hi," he says, his face on her screen now. She hangs up her phone, smiling at him.

"Hi, yourself. Wow, that is one ugly room," she observes.

"I know, right? I don't think they've redecorated since 1973. You look too cozy. I wish I was there with you."

"I am quite cozy, yes. Almost perfectly so, except I'm terribly lonely."

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow night," he promises.

"You'd better," she grins. "Although, I _could_ make use of your recent purchase…" she teases.

"Don't you dare! Not without me!" he blusters, and she laughs. "At least for the inaugural use, anyway."

"I won't, I promise," she says, settling deeper into her bed, laying on her side, setting the computer on the pillow next to her.

"Turn it sideways. That way it'll look like I'm lying next to you."

She tries; it won't stay.

"Not working," she sighs, setting the computer back. "Let me see them."

"What?" he asks, confused.

"Panties. Where are they?"

"Oh," he says, understanding. He holds them up, then strokes the silken material against his face.

"Pervert," she says again. So he smells them, just to drive it home, and she rolls her eyes at him and sighs.

"Dare," he whispers.

"So it's like that, then, hmm?" Gwen raises her eyebrows at him. "Use those," she nods at the garment in her hand.

"Use them? For what?"

"Guess."

His eyes widen. "And _I'm_ the pervert?" he asks, but she can see him shuffling on his bed, presumably pulling his shorts down or off.

"Join me?" he challenges, yanking his shirt off now as well.

"I'll think about it," she smirks. "Depends on how good a show this turns out to be."

"Take that shirt off and it'll be even better," he says, his breathing a little ragged, and she knows he's got her knickers in his hand, wrapped around his shaft, possibly starting to move.

Gwen sits up and whips his shirt off over her head, setting it aside, leaning back on some pillows against the headboard, the Macbook in her lap.

"Much better. Now I have some motivation," he rumbles.

She idly runs her hand down her chest, between her breasts, egging him on.

"Oohh…" he breathes.

"I want to see," she tells him quietly.

He grunts and moves his computer, and she can see his hand on himself, the purple silk of her panties beneath it, as he strokes himself with long, measured strokes.

"Nice," she purrs appreciatively, her fingers now finding a nipple, grazing across it, coaxing it stiffer, then pinching it lightly.

Arthur inhales sharply, watching her. "Oh, Guinevere," he groans, his eyes glued to his screen. "Touch yourself for me," he pleads.

"I already am," she tells him, her hand already beneath the covers.

"Below," he says, not understanding, thinking she's referring to her hand on her breast.

"I… mmm… am," she says, her head falling back momentarily.

"God, you are, aren't you?" he asks, his eyes aflame.

"Yes, Arthur," she answers, willing her eyes back to the computer screen. "Oh…"

"I want… to see," he repeats her request back to her, and she can see his hand gripping tighter, moving faster now.

"I'll try," she says, turning, setting the computer beside her and throwing the covers back. She moves to lie on her side and adjusts the screen. "How's that?" she asks, returning her hands to her body.

"OhmyGod…" he gasps, "perfect…"

"Arthur," she whispers throatily, her eyes traveling over his beautiful body, his hand gripping himself.

Suddenly he releases himself, tossing her panties on the bed next to him. "Don't want to get… anything… on them," he explains.

"Okay," she says mindlessly, her own fingers circling, dipping deep inside occasionally, her other hand still pulling at her nipple, twisting it, squeezing her breast in her palm.

"Oh… I'm going to…" Arthur gasps.

"Me, too… oh…"

"Oh, good…"

"Ohhh…" he groans.

"Oh, God… Arthur…"

They gaze at each other through their computer screens for a few moments, coming down, returning to earth.

"Yech…" Arthur finally looks down and reaches for a tissue.

"Nice ass," Gwen comments when he leans and turns away from her.

She pulls his t-shirt back on now and cuddles back into her bed, making a contented noise in her throat.

"That was fun," Arthur says, grinning, pulling his shorts back on but leaving his shirt off.

"Arthur!" she says, looking intently at the screen.

"What?" he asks, mystified.

"Did you have your socks on the whole time?"

"Um…"


	10. Chapter 10

Gwen looks up from her laptop at the sound of the door opening and closing. _Arthur's back._ She grins but stays put, listening as he locks the door behind him, drops his laptop bag on a kitchen chair, and walks back to the bedroom, the hard soles of his dress shoes clicking on the wooden floor.

"Hey," he says softly from the door. "Sorry I'm late."

"I heard about the pile-up on the motorway," she says, smiling up at him as he crosses to her and kisses her. "But thank you for calling, too."

 _Damn but aren't we domestic?_ she finds herself thinking.

"You stole my favorite shirt," he observes, seeing her wearing his Oxford tee again.

" _My_ favorite shirt now," she grins at him.

"Be right back. Gotta pee," he says, kissing her forehead.

"I imagine you probably do," Gwen answers, returning her attention to her laptop.

When he returns, clad in his shorts and a t-shirt, she is scowling at the screen.

"What are you frowning at?" he asks.

"My stupid genius cousin. I don't know why I'm playing Words With Friends with him. I have yet to beat him and he's completely diabolical."

"Oh?" Arthur sits, amused and intrigued.

"I mean, _look_ ," she turns the computer. "Cwms? Really? And the game let him play it."

"What is that?"

"I looked it up. Welsh, obviously, meaning 'basin.' I am now accusing him of cheating, because there's no way he knows that. Further, we're playing in _English,_ not bloody Welsh!"

"Is he Welsh?"

"He was born and raised in New Jersey, Arthur," she sighs. "I mean, yes, he is a legitimate genius, finished school early and everything. But _still._ "

She glances at Arthur, who is doing a poor job of hiding his amusement.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Well, considering I have yet to beat _you_ at this game, yes, I am."

"That's because you need to play words longer than three letters, darling."

"I always get all vowels and, like, a K," he complains.

"Poor baby," she says, not very sympathetically.

Arthur curls up next to her, watching as she makes her play and sends a chat message to her cousin accusing him of cheating. Once done, he reaches up and closes the laptop, removing it from her lap.

She looks down at him, smirking, and he places a few soft kisses on her neck. "I bought something," he says, sliding off the bed and digging into his bag.

"Did you, now?" Gwen asks, watching him.

Arthur pulls something from his bag, concealing it behind his back. "Close your eyes," he says. She does, and then she hears him opening the nightstand drawer, remove something from it, and close it.

 _What was in there that he would need?_ she wonders, something poking at her brain.

"Open," he says, and she opens her eyes. He's standing at the foot of the bed, the purple vibrator in one hand and a set of fuzzy handcuffs – purple ones – in the other.

Gwen laughs. "Somehow I knew you'd get around to getting those. Purple ones, though, I'm impressed."

Arthur grins at her, then raises his eyebrow at her, challenging.

"Dare," she says, biting her lower lip alluringly.

"I dare you to pick one," he says, lifting each item in turn.

Gwen's eyes dart between the two, then inspiration strikes. "Both."

"Ooo, naughty girl, I'm a lucky man," Arthur says, his lips curling into a delicious grin. He drops onto the bed and crawls up over her body, kissing her once he reaches her lips, indulging himself for a bit. "I missed you," he mutters against them. "Skype was fun, but it's a poor substitute for the real thing." He drops his head onto her shoulder for a moment, squeezing her close.

"I missed you too," she whispers when his lips trail down her jaw to her neck. He sets his items on the pillow next to her head and shifts, pulling the comforter back, exposing her long, slender, brown legs.

He lifts his head now and appraises her. "You have got fantastic legs, have I told you that?" he asks, his eyes drifting down and then back up.

"I don't think you have, actually," she says.

"Well, you do," he declares. "Now," he says, pressing his lips together thoughtfully, "I think we need to take this shirt off." He reaches down and grabs the hem of her t-shirt (his t-shirt) and pulls it upward. Gwen wiggles it out from beneath her and sits up so that he can pull it off in one swift move.

He looks down. "Red ones," he observes, running his finger along the waistband of her panties, "I think we'll leave this on for now."

"Awfully dictatorial this evening, Arthur," she smirks at him.

"It seems appropriate since I'm going to be handcuffing you to the bed, don't you think?" he asks, dropping his head to kiss her again, his hand straying to her breast a moment. "You chose; I am merely complying."

He slides his hand from her breast, running it down her arm to take her hand in his.

"Where is the key?" Gwen asks when he reaches for the cuffs. He nods at the nightstand, and she sees it sitting there within easy reach. "Okay, carry on," she says, and he fastens the cuff around her slender wrist.

"Okay?" he asks softly. She turns her hand this way and that and gives him a nod.

He takes her hand and raises it over her head, close to her headboard, and threads the other end of the cuff through the wooden slats, gently cuffing her other hand in the other end.

Arthur kisses her fingers then moves back to her lips, his tongue sliding against hers deliciously, his hands caressing soft secret places on her skin until she is squirming beneath him.

"Let me know if you want me to un-cuff you, okay?" he whispers, and Gwen realizes that he's a bit nervous. _Good. I am, too._

"Oh, I will, I guarantee it," she says, and he laughs.

He lowers himself and kisses down to her chest, nuzzling her soft skin, kissing and licking her nipples, enjoying his unfettered access to her body.

"Take your shirt off, Arthur," Gwen says.

"Okay," he says, cocking his head at her a moment before discarding his shirt to the floor beside the other.

"I like looking at you," she admits, and he grins arrogantly at her. "Okay, put it back on, then," she says, laughing.

"You seem to forget that you are at a disadvantage right now, Guinevere," he purrs, reaching for the vibrator and switching it on. "Interesting," he says, cocking an eyebrow.

Gwen watches him, wondering where he'll strike first. _Being a man, it's likely he'll dive right in for the money shot right away,_ she thinks. _But being Arthur, he may drag this out as long as he can, just to torture me._

Arthur climbs onto the bed, the vibrator humming softly in his hand as he stretches out beside her. He touches the vibrator to her stomach, gently, and then he moves it. Slowly. Upward.

 _Option B, then,_ she thinks, closing her eyes and leaning her head back as he drags it lightly over one nipple, then the other. She hums appreciatively, squirming a little.

Arthur leans down and flicks his tongue lightly against one nipple, still moving the vibrator in small circles around the other. He draws it into his mouth, kissing, sucking, licking.

"Arthur," she breathes, pulling slightly at the cuffs, arching against him as best she can.

He bites lightly and she cries out softly. Next he drags the vibrator downward, across her stomach again to press gently between her legs, over her panties.

"Ooo," she purrs, flexing her hips, trying to increase the contact.

"You like that, huh?" Arthur murmurs, his lips against her stomach now. "I think we need to take these lovely knickers off, though," he adds, switching the vibrator off for a moment.

"About time," she says, and Arthur laughs. He moves over her and peels the red lace garment down and off, tossing it carelessly to the floor. His movements reveal the erection now tenting his shorts, and she smirks at him.

"What?" he asks, and she looks pointedly at him. "Well, _yeah,_ " he answers, as if it should be obvious.

"I haven't even touched you," she says. "Can't." She flexes her hands above her head.

"Guinevere, you don't _have_ to touch me," he tells her, shucking his shorts and boxer briefs in one fluid move before prowling back up to kiss her a bit more before resuming his torture. "All I need to do is…" he trails kisses down her neck, " _think_ about you some days…"

"Oh…" Gwen breathes, his words hitting her heart as well as her groin. She hears the faint _click_ followed by the hum as Arthur turns the vibrator back on.

He nips her earlobe lightly, then presses the instrument between her legs, softly at first, moving it around, exploring. Gwen's legs part wider, allowing him easier access, and he is ready, moving the vibrator right where he wants it, right where _she_ wants it.

"Ah," she gasps, writhing, pulling at the cuffs slightly. "Oh…"

Arthur grins smugly, moving it up and down a few times, staying with her squirming body, enjoying the squeaks and coos and cries that are escaping her lovely lips. He slides it down and inside her now, pumping it in and out, slowly, a few times until she groans.

"Stop," she gasps when he withdraws it, closing her legs, "stop…"

"What? Guinevere, is something wrong?" he asks, puzzled.

"No, nothing's wrong," she answers, breathing heavily. "I just… don't want to…"

"You don't?"

"I want to, but I want _you_ to give it to me, not that. Not this time."

"Oh," he smiles, switching it off.

"Turn it back on," she says, a sly look crossing her face now.

"What?"

"You heard me."

He narrows his eyes and gives her a sideways look, but follows instructions anyway. Thinking a moment, he says, "Dare."

"Use that on yourself," she says. "Touch it to _him,_ " she indicates who _he_ is with her eyes.

Arthur props himself up on his elbow, on his side beside her, and gingerly lowers the vibrator down, running it along the length of his shaft.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaims, jerking it away quickly, and Gwen giggles madly. "I've got to try that again," he whispers, touching it to himself again, falling back onto the bed. "Shit," he groans.

"Pretty intense, hey?" she asks, turning as best she can towards him, watching as he writhes now.

"God, I've got to stop," he regains his senses and switches it off, tossing it aside as he climbs over her.

"Do you want me to un-cuff you?" he asks, poised over her entrance, hovering there.

"No," she says, her eyes twinkling at him.

"Naughty girl," he says as his sinks into her, his voice low and seductive.

"Mmm," she agrees, lifting her hips to meet him, draw him in.

Arthur moves slowly and deliberately, sliding in and out. He leans down to kiss her, tugging her lower lip gently between his teeth while one hand finds her breast.

"Guinevere," he breathes her name, brushing his lips down her long neck. He opens his eyes a moment and spies the discarded vibrator on the bed next to them.

_Hmm._

Arthur leans back, kneeling between her legs now, pushing in deeply, splaying her legs wide.

She looks up at him and sees the sly look on his face, and she blinks. "What?"

He reaches over for the vibrator and switches it back on, placing it between them, against her mainly, as he continues to thrust into her.

"Oh! No…" she gasps, pulling in earnest on the handcuffs for the first time now. "Oh, yes!" she shouts

"Make up… your mind," he admonishes through gritted teeth, but his eyes are twinkling with an incredibly sexy combination of lust and humor.

He grips her thigh with his free hand and moves faster, Gwen's pants and cries both encouraging him and signaling that she is close.

"Oh, God… oh… Arth… oh shit… oh!"

Mercifully, he removes the vibrator as she clamps her thighs tight around his hips, her bottom lifting from the bed as she comes, powerfully and loudly.

"Bloody…" he mutters, the curse dying on his lips as he falls with her, burying himself deep with his climax. He drops his head on her chest, spent.

A few moments later he reaches over and nabs the key from the nightstand and frees her hands.

"Thank you," she says, bringing them down around his shoulders, holding him. He is still laying on her, and he turns his head to kiss her neck.

"You have amazing skin," he mumbles, sliding his nose against her shoulder.

She giggles and toys with his hair, loving its silken texture, the way it slides so easily between her fingers. _Not like mine at all,_ she notes.

"What's funny?" he asks, lifting his head.

"Nothing specific," she says, squirming under his weight now, and he rolls to the side, pulling her against him. "I'm just happy."

"Good. How are your shoulders?" he asks, his voice full of concern.

"A bit stiff," she admits.

"Here," he shifts and rolls her onto her stomach. As Arthur massages her stiff shoulders, Guinevere drifts off into blissful slumber.


	11. Chapter 11

_Can you get a lift home from Merlin? My dad is sending me on an errand close to EOD._

Gwen reads the text and chuckles.

"What's up, Gwen?" Merlin asks, peeking at her around the massive bouquet of flowers that was delivered earlier in the day. There is a balloon suspended above it emblazoned with the words _Happy birthday._

"Can you give me a ride home?" she sighs, still smirking.

"Of course. Why are you laughing?"

"Because Arthur continues to be a terrible liar." She shows him Arthur's text.

"Errand. Right," Merlin says sarcastically. "I believe the errand part, but I doubt very much that his father has anything to do with it."

"I know. It's cute how much he tries, though, isn't it?" she grins and starts poking at her phone.

_Yes, he can._

She stares at the phone another moment, then: _You are still a terrible liar, BTW._

She shows Merlin and he laughs just as another text comes.

_I will see you later, Madame Smartypants._

xXx

Merlin pulls into the driveway behind Arthur's car. "So he's here waiting for you. Does he have his own key now?"

"Um, yeah, kind of…" Gwen says, biting her lip.

"Does he ever go to his own place?"

"Sure," she says. "He has to get his mail. And he rotates his clothes in and out…"

"Does he have closet space at your house? His own toothbrush? Towel?" Merlin grills her, eyebrow raised.

"I have to go, Merlin," she says, reaching for the door handle.

"Has he said it at least? Have you?"

"Merlin! I am going!" she huffs, opening the door and stepping out.

"Love you, Gwennie," Merlin sings from the car just before she slams the door and replies with a raised middle finger. He drives away laughing.

Gwen walks up the driveway to the back door, stopping when she sees Arthur lounging on her back patio, supervising a man in coveralls crouched outside her back door.

"Hi," he calls casually, handing her a drink. "Happy birthday."

"What are you doing?" she asks, taking the drink.

"You're welcome," he says, smirking at her.

"Sorry, thank you. What are you doing?"

"I'm having your door fixed," he explains. "Got you a new lock and knob and he even fixed the door so it won't stick anymore."

"Oh…" she stands and stares, looking from Arthur to the door and back again. "For my birthday? You fixed my door?"

He nods, looking very proud of himself. "I didn't like you having a faulty door when you are here all alone. Well, not that you're here alone much…"

"That's the most… romantic non-romantic thing anyone's ever done for me," she giggles. "It's so… pragmatic, but your reasons…"

Arthur pulls her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight hug.

"All set, Mr. Pendragon," the workman says, standing and wiping his hands on his trouser legs.

"Oh, good, thanks, Jim. Come see," Arthur says excitedly, pulling her up the steps. "It has a number pad, so you don't even need a key. I mean, there _is_ a key, too, but…"

"You're such a geek," Gwen laughs. "What's the combination?"

"You choose it, miss," Jim says, handing her instruction pamphlet before heading out to his truck.

"Thank you," she says, looking at the instructions. "Seems simple enough," she mutters.

"Give me that," Arthur says, reaching for it. She jerks her hand away, out of his grasp.

"Hands off! I am doing this," she tells him. "Behave or I won't tell you the combo."

He withdraws his hand, eyes wide.

She programs it easily, grinning smugly at him when she's done.

"What number did you choose?" he asks, a bit warily.

She pulls him close and kisses him. "One. Eight. Zero. Eight," she tells him, kissing him between each number.

He looks at her, puzzling a moment before realization dawns. "That's the day we met," he whispers. She nods, and he pulls her against him, kissing her deeply. "There's more," he mutters against her lips. "Let's go inside."

"More?" she asks, her face lighting up as she opens the door and scurries inside. He's got the table set, candles lit. "Oh…"

"I thought about taking you out, but then I decided that an evening in would be…"

"Better," she finishes, leaning back against him as his arms snake around her middle. "You cooked for me?" she asks, turning her head to look up sideways at him.

"I did. I told you I could cook, remember?" He bends down and kisses her neck.

"Mmm, you did," she says, "what are we having? Smells good."

"Come sit," he unwinds himself from around her to lead her to the table.

"Can I at least take my shoes off?" she asks, pulling against his hand.

"You can take off whatever you like," he says, smirking at her, taking his own shoes off as well. His coat and tie had long since been discarded.

Gwen laughs and sits at the table, waiting patiently, watching him working in her kitchen. "I'm enjoying this," she says.

"Enjoying what?"

"Watching you cook me dinner. It's very sexy."

He turns around and looks at her, potholders shaped like sharks over each hand. "Oh?"

"Especially the potholders," she giggles.

"Yes, well, the _Kiss the cook_ apron is in the wash, so…" he shrugs and returns to the oven, withdrawing a casserole dish and then a garlic bread.

"Italian," Gwen says, smiling, remembering their first real date at the Italian place. Remembering the dare, his hand under the table, beneath her skirt.

"Chicken parmesan," he says, turning on the tap and running hot water in the sink, warming up the noodles he had already cooked and drained.

He dishes up the plates and brings them to the table.

"Arthur, I'll never eat all this!" Gwen exclaims at the mound of pasta on her plate topped with a chicken breast smothered in marinara sauce and mozzarella cheese.

"Eat what you want, then," he shrugs, his eyes dancing in the candlelight.

They are mostly quiet while they eat. Gwen compliments his cooking. She thanks him again for fixing her door. She gets the distinct impression that there's still more to come, because he has that sneaky, shifty look about him.

"What are you smirking at over there, little one?" he asks suddenly.

"You."

"Me? How am I amusing you now?"

"You're just… cute. Because you think you're being so crafty and sly. I know you have more up your sleeve."

"Ah, perhaps, but you don't know what," he declares triumphantly.

"True," she shrugs, taking a bite of garlic bread and lifting her foot up into his lap, sliding it up his thigh and pressing his groin lightly.

"Oh," he grunts, dropping his fork. He meets her eyes across the table and she drops her eyes coyly to her plate before looking up at him through her lashes. "Tease," he says.

"We both know that's not true," she laughs.

They finish quietly, Gwen only eating about half of what was on her plate. While she waits for Arthur to finish, she cocks her head to the side and says, "Truth."

"Hmm? Oh. Um, oh, I know. How old are you? I realized that I don't know."

"Boring," she declares, leaning back in her chair, swinging her other foot up into his lap now. "Twenty-six," she answers.

"Ooo, you're older than me!" he exclaims, grinning.

"What?" Gwen is shocked.

"Okay, it's only… six months, but _still._ Older woman. Kind of hot."

"You're goofy," she declares.

"Probably," he shrugs, tossing his napkin on the table. He gently eases her feet down so he can stand and clear the dishes.

"Do you mind if I go change clothes?" she asks. "Or are we going somewhere?"

"No, was planning a night in. We do still have to work tomorrow," he says.

"Good. I want out of this bra," she says, standing. She hears his laughter as she heads back to get comfortable in a soft t-shirt, her own this time, and a pair of cotton pajama pants.

"I have dessert, Guinevere," Arthur calls. "Do you want it later?"

"Yes, I'm too full right now," she calls back. She comes back to the kitchen and he shoos her into the living room to go relax while he cleans up.

Fifteen minutes later, Arthur emerges, in shorts and a t-shirt, cozy now himself. Gwen eyes him suspiciously. "That was… fast."

"I am very efficient," he says, sitting carefully beside her.

 _He has something behind his back._ "Okay," she says slowly, wondering how clean her kitchen actually is, but deciding it doesn't really matter because she is too curious about what he's hiding. She tries to move surreptitiously to peek, and he catches her.

"Impatient," he chides her, but he is grinning, loving her childlike excitement for gifts. "I bet you were fun at Christmastime when you were little."

"What do you mean, 'when I was little?' I'm ridiculous even now," she laughs. "What are you hiding back there?"

He leans forward and kisses her, nibbling, lingering over her lips. "At least we both taste like garlic," he says, and she giggles.

"That's your fault," she reminds him, catching his lips again.

"You didn't think I'd honestly get you a doorknob for your birthday and nothing else, did you?" he mutters against her lips. "That's about as romantic as getting a vacuum cleaner."

She feels something land in her lap now, so she quickly pulls away from Arthur's tempting lips and snatches up the box.

It is about three inches square, about an inch high. Not heavy. She shakes it, and it rattles slightly.

_Jewelry? Did he get me jewelry?_

Gwen tears into the paper to uncover a telltale box in robin's egg blue. _Tiffany's. He did get me jewelry!_ She gasps, and is suddenly a little scared to open it.

"Go on," he urges, whispering. "I dare you."

She opens the lid to find a beautiful silver bracelet: simple, daisy-like flowers, linked together. It is beautiful but not too fine, something she could wear every day.

"Oh, it's beautiful," she finally says, lifting it from the box and laying it across her hand.

"You like it? I… I know you like flowers, and I thought with the whole petunia controversy…" he laughs a little.

 _He was nervous that I wouldn't like it,_ she realizes. "It's perfect. I love it. But these aren't petunias," she grins at him.

"I know. They didn't have anything with petunias."

"I like daisies better anyway," she says, fastening it around her wrist. "And it's not too big," she says.

"I was careful about that. I told the saleslady that you were small," he smiles. "I rather think she found me somewhat amusing," he adds.

"Why is that?" she asks, looking down at the bracelet, admiring how the silver contrasts against her skin.

"She was older, motherly. I think she just thought I was some…" he hesitates a moment, "lovesick puppy."

"And are you?" Gwen asks, very softly.

"Probably," he mutters shyly, leaning in to kiss her some more. "Happy birthday, Guinevere."


	12. Chapter 12

"This was a good idea," Gwen says, stepping out of Arthur's car at the valet, looking up at the Grand Hotel in Birmingham.

"I thought so," Arthur says, coming around and putting his hand on her lower back, ushering her inside.

"I'm glad you booked the extra night, too," she says, grinning at him.

"Well, I'm actually kind of in the wedding," Arthur admits, "so I would have needed to drive up here tonight anyway for the rehearsal. Staying here saves a lot of driving. And the reception is here, so when we're ready to leave, we can just go back up to our room."

"You're _in_ the wedding?" Gwen asks, trying not to sound too disappointed. _Great. I'll get to be ignored all night while he does wedding party things._

"I'm only reading something, don't worry," Arthur says, seeing right through her.

"Oh. So you can still sit with me?"

"Yes. Wild horses could not drag me from your side," he says, stepping up to the desk. "Pendragon," he tells the clerk.

The man behind the desk does his thing and hands Arthur their keys. "Enjoy your stay with us, Mr. and Mrs. Pendragon," he says.

"Thank you," Arthur answers stoically. They turn towards the elevators, biting the insides of their cheeks to keep from laughing as the bellman scurries ahead with their bags to press the button.

_I have to admit I liked the sound of that._

Arthur glances down at Gwen, and she looks up at him, blushing rather prettily.

_Ding._

They enter the lift, followed by the bellman.

"Here for the big wedding?" the bellman asks, making polite conversation.

"Yes, thought we'd come up tonight and make a weekend of it," Arthur says. _Why do you have to be in here with us? We have such fun in elevators,_ he thinks.

"We have a full-service salon and spa, miss, if you'd like a little pampering before the wedding. Also have services for men, sir."

Arthur looks at Gwen, who is biting the corner of her lower lip and looking up at him. He smiles at her and kisses her forehead. "We may have to look into that, thanks."

_Ding._

"Ah, here we are."

xXx

"Guinevere, this is Mithian Nemeth, and of course you've met Leon Foreman," Arthur introduces her to the bride- and groom-to-be. "Guys, this is my girlfriend, Guinevere DeGrace."

"Very nice to meet you, Mithian," Gwen says, shaking the other woman's hand. Mithian is a petite beauty with pale skin and chestnut hair. She's also practically glowing with happiness.

"You, too, Guinevere," Mithian answers, smiling brightly.

"Gwen, please," she says. "Arthur seems to insist upon calling me Guinevere, but most people do call me Gwen. Nice to see you again, Leon," she turns and shakes Leon's hand.

"You, too," Leon smiles. "I'm glad you could come."

"Well, to be honest, I kind of feel like I'm crashing your rehearsal," Gwen admits.

"Nonsense," Mithian waves her off. "We already knew you were coming when Arthur agreed to do a reading, so we accounted for you for the dinner, figuring he'd bring you."

"Oh," Gwen says, not really knowing what else to say.

"We're ready," a man pokes his head through some doors nearby and announces.

"All right," Leon says, taking Mithian's hand and they all walk inside.

"Do what you need to do," Gwen says. "I'll just hang out here in the pew and play Angry Birds."

"Let me know if I read too fast," Arthur says, leaning in to kiss her.

"Okay," she says, touching the end of his nose with her finger. He snatches it and kisses it before sauntering forward to sit near the front.

The rehearsal dinner is at the Nemeth's country estate, a sprawling affair with a large garden.

"Something smells amazing," Gwen says when they step out of the car, looking at the grand house.

"Leon said something about roasting a whole pig," Arthur says. "His family is hosting the dinner, of course, but the Nemeths offered their cottage when they found out what Mr. Foreman had in mind."

"Cottage?" Gwen chuckles.

"Yeah, I know," Arthur sighs. "My, um, father has a similar place, I should probably mention…"

"Rich people." Gwen rolls her eyes.

"Come on." He grins and takes her hand, pulling her through to the back garden. As they enter the patio, two men walk past, a beautiful golden pig on a long pole suspended between them.

"You weren't kidding when you said 'whole pig!'" Gwen exclaims, staring as they disappear into the house.

"Looked delicious," Arthur says.

"It still had its head on…" she says absently, letting Arthur lead her to the bar for champagne.

"Oh, you're not going squeamish on me, are you?" he complains, smirking.

"No," she pouts. "But if there are unidentifiable _parts_ on the buffet…"

"I doubt it. I think Mrs. Nemeth would faint, honestly," he chuckles.

It is a large party. Mithian has six bridesmaids and two flower girls. Gwen learns that the two men carrying the pig through were Leon's father and uncle, the Barbecue Masters (so they claim).

The pork turns out to be delicious, as is everything else, and everyone is in high spirits, chatting in small, ever-changing clusters as the night wears on. Arthur is cornered by a couple of simpering bridesmaids while Gwen is in the restroom, and she watches a moment, mildly amused, until one of them touches his arm.

"Arthur, darling, there you are," she says brightly, approaching him and kissing him soundly.

"Thank you," he whispers against her lips, and when she moves to stand beside him, he wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Ladies, this is my girlfriend, Guinevere," he says, and Gwen can see him trying not to laugh. "Guinevere, this is…" he pauses, appearing to try and remember their names, "Fiona and… Emma, was it?" he asks the one who touched his arm.

"Ella," she says, smiling a fake smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too. This is a lovely place, isn't it? I just love how secluded it is," Gwen says, making pleasant conversation while Arthur's hand strokes her shoulder lovingly.

"Yeah, it's great," Ella says. "Excuse me, I need to freshen my drink," she says. "Come on, Fee." She pulls the other bridesmaid with her.

"Good to meet you…" Fiona mumbles as she is hauled away.

"Jealous little minx," Arthur grins down at her.

"She was touching what does not belong to her," Gwen says.

"And I do belong to you?" Arthur arches an eyebrow at her.

"Darn right," Gwen says. "She's lucky she only touched your arm. Hello, Leon," she suddenly says as Leon and Mithian appear behind a now-laughing Arthur.

"You did an excellent job at the rehearsal with your reading, Arthur," Mithian says, smiling. "Thank you."

"Not a problem at all," Arthur shrugs.

"Public speaking has never been a problem for Arthur," Leon says. "And, since he's the reason we met anyway, we felt it appropriate that he be involved in some capacity."

"You set them up?" Gwen asks, intrigued.

"Mmm, not exactly…" Arthur says, looking away.

"Arthur."

Leon laughs. "I was Mithian's rebound man. After Arthur," he explains.

"What?" Gwen asks, curious and amused.

"Mithian and I went out on one date," Arthur says, then he glances at Mithian.

"It was okay," she shrugs. "Then we went on another, a double date with my friend Sophia. I had asked Arthur to bring a friend for her, and he brought Leon."

"We didn't hit it off," Leon says.

"Sophia is very shy. That's why I was trying to help her out," Mithian explains.

"Mith and I _mutually_ decided that we had no… spark. We got along fine, but neither of us felt anything beyond friendship," Arthur says.

"So how did Leon and Mithian get together?" Gwen asks.

"Leon asked me for her number," Arthur laughs.

"No!" Gwen exclaims.

"It was very awkward," Leon admits, "but I had to. I just… _had_ to. And I didn't know how else to find her."

"He did wait a good week or so," Arthur says. "Then he came slinking into my office, all, 'So, you and Mithian aren't seeing each other anymore?' and 'Would you mind awfully if I rang her up?'"

"Best thing I ever did," Leon says, wrapping his long arms around his petite fiancée and kissing her on the top of her head.

xXx

"What should we do now?" Gwen asks, back in their hotel room. She is lounging on the sumptuous king-sized bed, shoes off.

"Hmm, I can think of one or two ideas," Arthur says, rummaging in his small suitcase for God only knows what. "Hello, what's this?" he pulls out a deck of playing cards.

"Cards?" Gwen asks, sitting up, cross-legged in the center of the bed.

"Oh, they must be in here still from that boys' weekend…" he mutters. He looks at the deck in his hand, then at Gwen.

"Dare?" she asks, a slightly puzzled and intrigued look on her face.

"Strip poker," he says, stalking towards the bed now, opening the box, withdrawing the pack, and setting the two jokers aside.

"Mmm," Gwen says, scooting over on the bed. "What kind of poker?"

"Strip poker, I believe I just said," Arthur says, confused.

"No, Five Card Draw, Texas Hold 'Em…"

"Oh," he says, sitting. "Probably should keep it simple. Five Card Draw. Losing hand takes something off. I'll deal first."

He sits, his legs splayed out in front of him, and shuffles the deck. He deals.

Gwen takes her cards and looks at them. _Bugger._ "Hmm," she says, keeping her face neutral. "I'll take one."

He gives her a card. "Dealer takes three."

Gwen looks. _Shit. Queen, ten, nine, seven, six. Why a queen? You couldn't have dealt me an eight?_ She spies Arthur's face and is heartened to see that he has a terrible poker face and that his hand must be as bad as hers.

"All right, what do you have?" he asks.

"Nothing. Queen high," she shows her hand.

"Ha! I also have nothing, but ace high!" he exclaims triumphantly. He lays his cards down. Ace, two, three, five, and seven.

"Wow, we are terrible poker players," Gwen says.

"Take something off."

Gwen removes a sock. Arthur scowls, gathers the cards and pushes them over to her. "Your deal."

He watches as she shuffles the deck skillfully, better even than he does. "You're good at that."

"El and I used to play poker with our Dad. We'd wager with crisps or popcorn. I think Dad used to let us win." She deals.

Arthur wins again, taking no cards at all. He has a flush. Gwen has a pair of fives. Another sock comes off.

"Not my night," Gwen mutters after the third hand, her pair of sevens losing to Arthur's pair of tens. She removes an earring.

"Hey!" Arthur protests. She just smirks and sets the earring on the nightstand.

Gwen's other earring.

Gwen's bracelet.

"Ha! Two pair!" Gwen exclaims triumphantly, finally winning a hand over Arthur's pair of sevens.

Smirking, Arthur takes off his shirt.

"Don't think you're going to distract me by sitting there shirtless, Pendragon," Gwen says casually, tossing the cards at him. "Your deal."

Next hand, Arthur loses a sock, his ace-high bested by her pair of twos.

Gwen is forced to remove her shirt after the next hand, and sits smugly now, knowing that she will indeed distract Arthur, even though she still has a bra on. A red lace bra; his favorite one.

Arthur's other sock.

Gwen's jeans.

Arthur exhales, adjusting his position on the bed as he sits across from his beautiful girlfriend, clad only in her bra and panties.

"Problem, Arthur?" she asks innocently.

"Give me the cards, wench."

"Wench?" she asks, chuckling as she hands him the cards.

She loses again. Arthur watches her expectantly. She smiles sweetly at him, reaches up, and pulls the elastic band from her hair, releasing her ponytail and allowing her dark curls to cascade over her shoulders.

 _God, that just made it worse. I love her hair loose like that._ Arthur exhales heavily again and passes her the cards.

After a brief debate about whether or not three of a kind beats two pair – it does, verified by a quick Google search – Gwen removes her bra, and Arthur's mouth goes dry.

"Your deal, Arthur," she says throatily (intentionally), leaning forward to an unnecessary degree to hand him the cards.

"What? Oh. Right."

It comes down to two very paltry hands. Arthur's pair of sevens beats Gwen's pair of threes.

"I win," Arthur purrs, his eyes fixed on her panties.

Gwen flops back and lies down on the bed. "You do it."

"Sore loser?" he asks, grinning as he crawls over the pile of cards on the bed and climbs over Gwen, settling between her legs, resting on his elbows over her.

"Not at all," she says. "Just making you work for it," she says, leaning her head back as he starts dropping kisses on her neck. She hums her approval, squirming beneath him slightly as he moves lower, dragging his tongue down along her skin, between her breasts.

Arthur takes his time getting to his assigned task, leisurely skimming his lips over the soft skin on the underside of her breasts, kissing his way around to first one nipple, then the other, giving each equal and ardent attention.

He slides his hand down to her hip, his fingers catching on the waistband of her small panties, slipping just beneath it and sliding along the edge, teasing. She squirms beneath him again, practically begging him to remove the garment. He responds by pressing his hips forward slightly so she can feel his erection straining against his jeans.

"Take your bloody jeans off," Gwen moans, grabbing his head and pulling his lips to hers.

"No," he answers, talking between kisses. "I won, your knickers come off first."

"Then take them off already!" She writhes beneath him, swatting his shoulder when he starts chuckling mischievously.

"No need to resort to violence, darling," he rumbles, sliding down her body. He kisses her stomach a few times and then finally tugs on her panties. She lifts up to allow him to slide them down her legs and off, flinging them over his shoulder.

They hit the television and Gwen laughs. "Oh!" she exclaims as he kisses her right at the apex of her thighs, nuzzling her there briefly.

Arthur's tongue snakes out and he licks, long, lazy strokes, tormenting her until she is moaning and pulling his hair. He moves away, kissing down her thigh and biting gently just above the bend of her knee. As he kisses his way back up, his hand slides up and he squeezes that secret ticklish spot just below her rear, grinning against her thigh.

"Arthur!" she squeals, her bum shooting off the bed. "Don't do that!" She kicks him in the ribs with her heel while he laughs, his face on her stomach now.

"Sorry," he apologizes, still chuckling, "I couldn't help myself."

"Doesn't count if you're still laughing while you apologize, Arthur," she protests, trying to push at his head while his lips and tongue on her skin work very effectively to make any further protest disappear from her brain.

"I just love hearing your laugh," he murmurs, just before taking a nipple into his mouth, pulling it gently between his teeth, sucking at it, his hand caressing the other breast.

Gwen moves her hands down and opens his jeans, yanking them open and shoving at them. "Off now."

"Yes, yes," he sighs in mock exasperation as he leans back and shucks his jeans and pants to the floor before sliding back over her, nestling between her legs again.

"Better now?" he asks, claiming her lips with his before she can answer, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, hungry and passionate.

Gwen's fingers delve into his hair, running her fingernails lightly over his scalp. She moans into his mouth and slides her palms down his muscled back, lower, down to his backside, which she squeezes appreciatively. Arthur hums his approval against her neck, and then, in an impulsive moment, Gwen raises her hand and spanks him.

"Oh!" he grunts. "What was that?"

"Impulse," she answers simply, kissing him, sucking his lower lip in between her lips.

"Hmm…" he says, pulling away slightly and raising an eyebrow at her.

She bites her lower lip and looks up at him, her brown eyes boring into him, and all he can do is kiss her again, pressing his hips forward, his manhood prodding her now.

Gwen takes him in her hand and slides him against her wetness a few times, stroking him at the same time. She moves him into place and he plunges forward, burying himself deep within her.

"Yes," she breathes, bending her knees at his hips, letting them fall wider apart.

Arthur groans and pulls back, sliding out and hooking his arm under one of her knees before driving forward again, bringing her leg up with him, gripping her thigh.

"Ooo," she moans, arching underneath him. He drops his head to catch a breast in his mouth, sucking hungrily, swirling his tongue around her nipple.

He straightens back up and moves her leg, sliding it up so her ankle is draped on his shoulder, running his hand along her soft skin, still moving swiftly in and out, savoring every stroke.

"Arthur," she whispers, her voice breathy, her breathing shallow. Arthur moves faster, pushes a little harder. "Oh…" her plaintive cry rewards his efforts.

Gwen brings her own hands up over her breasts, kneading them gently, and the sight of her nearly pushes Arthur over the edge. He closes his eyes and drops his head back for a moment, but the image of her quivering body beneath him is burned into his brain.

"Shit," he curses softly, thrusting hard and deep, trying to hold on.

"Ah… oh God… oh my… Ar… oh…"

 _Thank God,_ Arthur thinks and lets go, releasing into her with a rumble and a groan just as she really starts to get loud, culminating in crying out his name.

Her leg drops down and he collapses over her, rolling them so he's not squishing her. "I love it when you do that," he says, kissing the top of her head and running his fingers along her spine.

"Do what? Spank you?"

"Ha," he laughs. "The jury is still deliberating that one. No, when you scream my name."

"Of course you'd like that," she teases, kissing his chest.

Arthur drops his hand to his side, and it lands on the forgotten cards. He grabs a few in his hand, looks at them and then tosses them aside. He does this a few times before he finds the one he wants. He puts it in her hand, draped across his chest, then closes his own over it, holding her hand there over his heart.

Eventually Gwen's curiosity gets the better of her and she looks at the card in her hand. She smiles and leans up to kiss his chin.


	13. Chapter 13

"I'll see you later," Gwen says, leaning up to kiss Arthur before he heads into the men's area of the spa for his massage.

"Should I wait for you?"

"I'll probably be longer than you will," she says. "I'm having both my hair and my nails done. So I'll meet you back in the room."

"You look really good in my shirt, by the way," he smirks at her, kissing her one more time.

Gwen hadn't anticipated having her hair professionally done for the wedding, and only had pullover shirts along. So she borrowed the button-down shirt Arthur had worn the previous day, tied at the waist with the sleeves rolled up, so she wouldn't have to pull anything over her head to put her dress on later. The fact that it smelled of him was just a bonus. She grins at him over her shoulder and disappears through the door.

xXx

An hour and a half later, Gwen comes back into their hotel room, coiffed and manicured and looking lovely. Arthur is lying sideways on the bed, limbs splayed, his face completely relaxed. She approaches his head and leans over to kiss him, upside-down. "How was your massage?" she asks, sitting on the bed.

"Great. I feel like a hundred dollars," he says, smirking at her.

"A hundred… dollars?" she asks, her face quizzical.

" _Caddyshack,_ 1980? Classic movie, Guinevere, come on…" he rolls his eyes.

"Can't say I've seen it," she shrugs.

"Oh we will definitely be remedying that situation, and soon," he promises, sitting up. "You look absolutely gorgeous," he declares.

"Thank you. I had them leave it mostly down, because I know you like it down," she says, smiling shyly at him.

"I do like it up, too," he says. "Gives me unfettered access to that delicious neck of yours. But I'm glad you kept it down. Did they trim it as well?" he asks, touching a curl lightly, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Just a bit. Had some split ends. Do you like my nails?" She holds her hands out for inspection. They are painted deep burgundy, so dark that it is almost black, and the very tips are edged with metallic gold.

"Very cool." He takes her hand and pulls it to the lamp, peering at her nails. "Okay, so it is red. Just really dark red. Very sexy," he declares, kissing her knuckles. "And so soft, too…" he rubs his thumb against the back of her hand for a moment before lifting it to his face, stroking his cheek along her skin.

"All right, I know where this is leading. I just spent good money to have my hair done and you will not be messing it up." She withdraws her hand from his and pats his cheek.

"Not right _now,_ anyway," he grins at her. "Wait, you didn't charge it to the room? I thought you agreed to let me…"

" _Yes,_ I did," she sighs. "So I misspoke. I just spent _your_ good money to have my hair done, is that better, Mr. Picky?"

"Yes," he nods, looking at the clock. "Probably should get dressed," he mutters.

"Honestly, you are impossible sometimes," Gwen mumbles to herself, going to retrieve her dress.

"What was that?" Arthur asks.

"What was what?" she asks, innocently. He peers suspiciously at her for a moment, but then he shrugs and goes back to pulling shoes and socks out of his bag.

xXx

"Gwen, you look lovely," Uther Pendragon says, finding Gwen and Arthur inside the church. He pecks her cheek and sits beside her in the pew, so she is between Arthur and Uther.

"Thank you, Mr. Pendragon, you look rather dashing yourself," she smiles at him.

"I do believe I told you to call me Uther," he reminds her, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry. Upbringing," she says by way of explanation.

"Well, you were raised correctly, then," he declares. "Arthur," he greets his son.

"Thank you for noticing me, Father," he teases.

"Sorry, Arthur, you look lovely as well."

"That's better."

Gwen laughs at the two men, swatting Arthur with her program.

Arthur looks at his watch. 4:05. "They're late," he says.

"Weddings never start on time," Gwen says, and Uther is nodding in agreement on the other side of her. She lifts her hand and moves a curl off her shoulder.

"Gwen, that is a lovely bracelet," Uther says, nodding at Gwen's silver daisy bracelet.

"Thank you. It was a birthday gift from Arthur," she holds her arm out for Uther to take a look.

"He chose it himself? No one helped him?" Uther says, smirking over at his son.

" _Yes,_ Dad, I did, shut it."

Just then the music starts up and everyone shifts in their seats to watch the bridesmaids proceed up the aisle.

Mithian looks gorgeous. Leon looks handsome. They both look completely smitten. When they are instructed to sit, Arthur takes Gwen's hand and holds it in his lap, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb absently.

 _Is he picturing the same things I am picturing, sitting here watching them get married?_ Gwen cannot help but wonder. She tries to put those thoughts aside, but they are insistent, prodding thoughts that any normal young woman would be having at a wedding. _Every girl dreams of being a princess for a day,_ she decides.

It's Arthur's turn to read. He squeezes her hand and walks gracefully to the podium. His eyes rest on Gwen for just a moment before he begins.

"A reading from First Corinthians, chapter thirteen, verses one through thirteen. _If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing._ "

He glances up from time to time as he reads, addressing the crowd, completely at ease in front of them. His eyes never rest on any one person for any amount of time. Except for Guinevere. Arthur's eyes return to her again and again as he reads.

" _Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things._ "

Gwen smiles a small smile, glancing over to Leon and Mithian for a moment, but her eyes are drawn back to Arthur like an irrepressible magnet.

" _So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three;_ " Arthur's eyes lock on Gwen, " _but the greatest of these is love._ "

xXx

Dinner is a sumptuous affair. The prime rib is perfect. The champagne is excellent. Gwen and Arthur are seated with Uther and some other people from Pendragon Insurance.

Speeches. Toasts. The clinking of cutlery on glasses insisting that the bride and groom kiss.

Cake is cut, and it, too, proves decadent and ridiculously delicious. Gwen watches, interested, as a 20-piece band sets up on a stage at one end of the hall.

"Interesting choice for music," she comments, nodding, seeing saxophones and trombones and trumpets.

"Ah, yes, that was one of the things that they had in common," Arthur nods. "They both love old jazz music."

"So they hired a big band for their wedding reception," Gwen nods.

"Of course," Arthur nods, as if it should be obvious. "Honestly, I wasn't surprised when Leon came slinking into my office to beg for Mithian's number. That double date was the strangest date I'd ever been on."

"Hit it off right away, did they?" Gwen asks, looking longingly at her cake plate and deciding it would be bad form to pick it up and lick up all the crumbs and streaks of icing.

"Like a house on fire," Arthur says. "You want more cake, don't you?"

"No. Yes. Shouldn't."

"We'll split one," he whispers conspiratorially, and dashes off in search of another piece.

He returns triumphant, a piece of chocolate cake in his hand.

"Where did you purloin that?" she asks.

"Leon's grandfather. Diabetic, and apparently Gran is a force to be reckoned with," he chuckles. "Very strict with him. I happened past at the correct time. She was about to stab him in the hand with her fork to prevent him from digging in."

"You are lying," Gwen says, her own fork hovering over a corner of the cake.

"I am completely serious," he says raising his right hand in the air as if he were in court. "Look," he indicates with his head where the grandparents are seated, and sure enough, Gwen sees a sullen-looking old man seated beside a very smug-looking old woman. The old man looks like Leon in fifty years. Then Gran leans over and pats Granddad's hand and kisses his cheek, and it appears all is forgiven.

Gwen smiles wistfully and digs her fork into the moist cake.

The music starts up shortly, and Leon and Mithian have their first dance to "I've Got You Under My Skin."

"The band is good," Gwen declares, speaking in Arthur's ear now. He nods, turning his face quickly to kiss her while she is still so near.

"Mithian needs a stepstool," he replies in Gwen's ear then, and she laughs. Mithian is about the same height as Gwen, and there is a one-foot height difference between the bride and groom.

"Doesn't look like she minds at all," Gwen says then.

The band plays a good mixture of slow and fast, and actually plays a wide range of swing tunes, from Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller to Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and Royal Crown Revue.

Arthur has been itching to dance with Gwen, but Uther whisks her away to the dance floor before Arthur even gets a chance. Then Mithian grabs him, telling him that he cannot deny the bride a dance on her wedding day, even pushing Leon at Gwen when he tries to cut in.

After very inexpertly attempting to dance to "One O'Clock Jump," Arthur gives up quickly on any fast dancing, heading back to drape his now slightly-damp jacket over the back of his chair.

Gwen comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his middle. "Ugh, you're sweaty," she says, letting go almost immediately.

Arthur turns around and tips her chin up so he can kiss her. "Next slow one is mine. Even if Prince Harry himself were to come strolling in and demand the next dance from you, you will tell him no."

"Yes, Sire," she teases, even curtseying. Then she reaches for her glass of water.

A new song starts, a slow one. "The Nearness of You."

"Aha," Arthur says, grabbing Gwen's hand and heading back to the dance floor with her.

"You are the only one I've been wanting to dance with, you know," Gwen says, looking up at him, her arms around his neck, his around her waist.

"Good," he declares, grinning for a moment before his face changes slightly. He is still smiling, but his face is softer, warmer. He pulls her a little closer and she rests her head on his chest, turning her face to the side. She closes her eyes and listens to his heartbeat while they dance, trusting him to keep her on her feet.

She feels him sigh and looks up again. He still has that same soft, inscrutable look on his face.

"Truth," he says, kissing her forehead.

 _He wants a truth? Now?_ "You've gone quiet, Arthur. What's on your mind?" she asks, and realizes that her own heart is pounding a bit now.

"I was just thinking," he says, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. "I was thinking about… how much I love you." He drops his head down to hers, brushes his lips against her cheek, and says, his lips caressing her ear, "I love you, Guinevere."

Gwen's eyes close again and she feels her stomach drop in the most delicious fashion, a warm tingle reaching from her heart down to her groin. She reaches up and holds his head in place. "I love you, too, Arthur," she breathes, answering him.

Arthur lifts his head a moment to gaze down into her eyes.

A crafty smile spreads slowly across Gwen's face. "Dare."

"Kiss me," he says, understanding immediately.

"What?"

"You heard me," he says quietly, the corner of his lips curving into a small smile.

 _He remembers!_ "I know, I just wanted to see if you would say it again."

"Kiss me, Guinevere," he says, his voice low, again washing over her skin like a caress.

"Okay," she whispers, lifting her face to his, pressing her lips to his, gently at first, their lips soft, pliant, moist. Arthur turns his head just slightly and parts his lips just enough to wrap around her lower lip, tugging softly until she opens her mouth beneath his, her tongue coming forward to meet his.

If either of them realize that their feet are no longer moving, neither of them care.

The song ends and they reluctantly break their kiss, staring into each other's eyes. Gwen catches some motion in the corner of her eye, and she turns her head to see that quite a large number of people are staring at them. She blushes and starts giggling, embarrassed.

"What?" Arthur asks.

"People are staring," she says, pulling him from the floor, back to their seats when the next song starts.

"Hey! You two are stealing our spotlight!" Leon declares loudly, but he is trying not to laugh.

"Sorry," Gwen apologizes. Arthur sits and pulls Gwen into his lap before she can take her own seat.

"He's teasing, don't mind him," Mithian says, smiling at them as if she knows exactly what happened between them out there on the dance floor. "We're going to do the bouquet and garter toss after the next song, so don't even think about escaping back up to that little love nest you've got upstairs," she warns, grinning.

xXx

"I need to get out of these shoes," Gwen declares, walking into their room, tossing the bouquet that she _swears_ Mithian somehow threw directly to her on the dresser.

"You should have brought a comfortable pair for the reception," Arthur says, pulling the garter that he _knows_ Leon shot directly to him off of his sleeve and dropping it beside the bouquet.

"I was going to, but I was in a rush and forgot," she shrugs, flinging the second shoe in the general direction of the small suitcase she's brought along. "Oh!" she exclaims, surprised. Arthur has grabbed her around the waist from behind and lifted her from her feet.

He steps back two steps and sits on the bed, pulling her with him, into his lap, his arms still around her waist. He worms his nose into her hair, burrowing into her curls until his lips find her neck.

"Smells different," he complains, his lips still at her skin.

"Well, I don't use the same products as the salon, obviously," Gwen says, tilting her head to the side for him, leaning back into him. "My stuff is much cheaper," she laughs, lifting her hand to cup his cheek.

"I like yours better," Arthur says, kissing her jaw, working his way to her lips, his fingers brushing the underside of her breast.

"It's what you're used to," she giggles. He flops backward onto the bed and rolls them to the side. She flips around to face him and kisses his lips.

"Well, yes, but I still like whatever you use better," he insists. "Now, my love," he pauses, grinning at his use of the endearment, "what shall I do with you?"

"Hmm…" Gwen narrows her eyes and taps her chin with her finger, appearing to be deep in thought.

"Dare?" Arthur says, raising an eyebrow hopefully.

"Well, then… I dare you to rub my feet," she purrs, kissing him again.

He leans back and looks at her. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but I can work with that."

"You're a creative man, I'm sure you can," she answers, shifting on the bed slightly. "But first I want out of this dress."

"Now _that_ is more like it," he says, leaping to his feet now. He first unbuttons his shirt and finishes undressing himself, till he is just in his boxer briefs.

"Are you warm enough?" he asks suddenly, his hand poised over the thermostat on the wall that controls the heater.

"Up a notch or two, please," she says, standing and turning her back to him so he can pull her zipper.

Arthur adjusts the heat and then steps over to happily oblige, humming his approval as he slowly lowers the zipper. "Ooo, is this new?" he asks, sliding his hands inside against the strapless black bustier he has discovered.

"Perhaps," she grins over her shoulder at him.

"Is there more?" His voice is soft, low and husky now, and it sends shivers down Gwen's spine.

"You'll see," she teases.

"This is why you changed in the bathroom, you naughty thing," he says, easing her dress down her arms and off.

Gwen just chuckles and catches the dress before it falls completely to the floor, stepping out and walking over to put it back on its hanger, shaking her head as she steps around the pieces of Arthur's discarded suit.

"What?" he says vaguely, mostly distracted by watching her walk away from him. The bustier has a matching black thong.

"You're going to need to have your suit cleaned and pressed if you leave it like this."

"Going to have to anyway because it's all sweaty," he shrugs. "Now come back here."

She saunters back over to him, swinging her hips seductively, her lips curving into a smile as his eyes roam up and down.

"Stockings, too, hmmm…" he nods approvingly, his hand reaching immediately for the place on her thigh where the top edge of her stocking meets her thigh, tracing it with his finger.

"You approve, then?" she asks, sliding her hands on his chest.

"Definitely," he nods, lowering his head to hers for a kiss, plunging his hands into her hair now, scattering hairpins as he threads his fingers into her hair, groping and pulling them gently out as he finds them.

"Arthur!" she starts giggling against his lips. "That does feel good, though," she admits.

He looks down at her, grins, then captures her lips again, pushing her gently back down on the bed. He finds one more hairpin and pulls it free, tossing it on the nightstand, where it bounces once and lands on the carpet.

"I think that's all of them," he declares, then sits back and looks at her lying there on the large bed, the black lingerie contrasting against her light-brown skin.

Gwen lifts a foot up and pushes his chest with it. "Get to work, Pendragon," she orders, reminding him of his assigned task.

"Your wish," he says, lifting her foot and kissing the sole once before pressing his thumbs into it, massaging and kneading.

"You're not going to take my stockings off first?" she asks, running her own hands through her hair now, double-checking for any hairpins.

"Oh, no," he says, his eyes alight. "Those are definitely staying on."

"Arthur, is there something I should know about you? Oh, that feels good…"

"Hmm? No, don't think so. Other one," he sets the first one down and she gives him the other one. "I don't have a fetish or anything, if that's what you're implying. I just… like your legs, and they look _really_ good in these stockings."

"Really?" she says, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Really," he declares, kissing the pad of her big toe. Gwen closes her eyes and lets him finish what he is doing. She knows he'll be done well before she's ready for him to finish, but she's going to enjoy it while she can.

"Don't fall asleep on me, little one, I have plans for you yet."

"I won't." She smiles, eyes still closed. "I'm just enjoying this."

"Good," Arthur says, sliding his hands up her calf, leaning forward over her. He bends down and kisses her knee, then moves higher, feathering kisses up her thigh.

He works his way up, depositing a single moist kiss in her cleavage before softly kissing the end of her nose.

"Hi," she opens her eyes now and looks at him.

"Hi, yourself," he answers. Gwen tilts her chin up and kisses him, her hands slipping around his torso to rest on his back.

He returns her kiss, warm and wet, luxuriating in each other, their tongues pressing and caressing each other in a slow, seductive dance.

Arthur's hand comes to rest over her breast, and she arches into his palm, moaning softly in the back of her throat.

He pulls his lips from hers for a moment, and she pushes him, trying to roll him over on his back.

"Oh, okay," he says absently, allowing her to move him onto his back. She climbs over him and pulls his underpants off now, dropping them gently on the floor beside the bed.

Arthur closes his eyes now, expecting to feel the slight weight of her soft little body climbing over him. "Oh!" he grunts in surprise when he instead feels her warm, wet mouth surrounding his length, sucking him inside.

She lifts her head and slides him out, then back down again, taking him in deep, her slender fingers around the base of him. She licks up one side and down the other, kissing the tip in between, then swirls her tongue around him before pulling him back in, sucking hard.

Arthur groans her name, his hand gripping her hair, holding tightly but not pulling, his other hand groping until he finds her hip, where he splays his hand against her curve, flexing his fingers into her pliant flesh.

"Ah," he gasps, and moves his hand to tap her shoulder, "stop…"

"Too much?" she teases, mercifully releasing him. Then she bends down and kisses his shaft one more time, just to be a little wicked.

"Bloody…" he curses, sliding his hands up her sides as she climbs up over him, sitting on his stomach. "How do you… ah," he says, his fingers exploring her bustier, looking for a way in. He finds small hook-and-eye clasps down the middle and starts working on them, his brow furrowed in concentration as he opens each tiny clasp.

"Had to get one that had a front closure, or I would have needed your help getting it on," she says.

"I would have been happy to help," he says.

"It would have ruined the surprise, silly."

"Right," he says absently, distracted again now as the garment falls open and drops. Gwen reaches behind her and tosses it away, leaning forward into Arthur's exploring hands.

Arthur flips them now, moving Gwen beneath him again, reaching for her panties immediately, peeling them down and off.

"These are quite damp," he observes, rubbing them between his fingers a moment before chucking them over his shoulder.

"Your fault," she says, pulling his shoulders down.

"I know," he says smugly, kissing her briefly before moving over to kiss her neck, up to her ear. "I love you," he whispers in her ear again, his tongue sweeping lightly along the edge of it.

"I know." It is her turn to answer smugly now, and his low chuckle against her neck draws a smile across her face.

Arthur moves to take a waiting nipple into his mouth, suckling, licking, biting gently as he moves his other hand down between her thighs, slipping his fingers into her moist center.

"Oh… ah…" she gasps, then sighs, her fingers in his hair. He moves to the other breast while his fingers drive her to the brink of madness below. "Now, Arthur, please…" she gasps, reaching for his length to guide him inside.

 _So help me, I am her puppet._ Arthur groans and lowers himself just as she tilts her hips up to him, drawing him in, and he slides excruciatingly slowly into her, exhaling loudly as he does so.

"Oh, Arthur, I love you," Gwen whispers, bringing her legs up around his hips, wrapping herself around him.

Arthur reaches for her thigh, feeling the edge of her stocking beneath his palm, slipping his thumb underneath the elastic at the top.

 _Is he going to try and take them off now?_ Gwen finds herself wondering, but no, he just keeps his hand there, his thumb beneath, fingers above, as he moves swiftly in and out, his other hand twined with hers beside her head, leaning on it for support.

Gwen's free hand comes up over her breast now, squeezing it, and Arthur squeezes his eyes shut. _If I watch that I will lose it completely._

"Arth…"

Groaning again, he feels her hand move to his chest, its soft fingertips tracing the contours of his muscles.

Arthur opens his eyes and looks at her, at her face in the faint light of the hotel room. He slows his thrusts just slightly, but it is enough to make her open her eyes and look up at him.

Their eyes lock on each other, and she reaches up and cups his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb. He turns his head and kisses her palm, still watching her face, lost in her eyes.

"Oh…" Guinevere sighs, long and drawn out and plaintive. She gasps and tightens around him, climaxing uncharacteristically quietly but still intensely. "Oh my," she whispers, breathless, pulling his shoulders toward her.

He leans down and kisses her tenderly, softly. Then he stills, thrusting deep and gathering her into his arms all at once, pulling her tightly up against his chest as he releases into her, whispering her name.

They sink back down together, Arthur moving them so she is nestled against him again, easing himself out of her when she untangles him from her legs.

"That was… something," he says quietly after a time. He is toying with her curls absentmindedly.

"It was quite breathtaking, yes," she says, kissing his chest.

"Mine was pretty… intense, too," he admits. _Because I realized just moments before exactly how much I love you and I would do anything to be with you for the rest of my life._

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Love?"

"Take my stockings off now, please."


	14. Chapter 14

"Who could that be?" Gwen asks when her phone vibrates on her desk. Merlin looks over from his computer screen and shrugs.

"Hello?" she answers quietly.

"Gwen?" a vaguely familiar voice responds.

"Yes?"

"This is Uther Pendragon. Sorry to bother you, but…"

"What's wrong?" Gwen asks, immediately frightened. _Why is Uther calling me in the middle of the day?_

"Arthur's been in a car accident. He's going to be fine, but—"

"Which hospital?" she cuts him off, hurriedly shutting her computer down and reaching for her purse.

"Saint George. He's still in surgery right now, but I should be hearing something any minute now, I would think."

"I'll be there in ten," she says.

"I'll meet you out front."

"What's wrong?" Merlin grabs her hand.

"Arthur's been in a car accident," she says, her face ashen.

"Go. I'll tell Gaius. Just go."

"Thank you."

"Call me or text me when you can," he calls after her, and she waves.

She rushes through the hospital doors and Uther spots her immediately. "Gwen," he calls, and she runs over to him. He gingerly places his arms around her, the awkward hug of a person unaccustomed to giving hugs. He has his mobile in one hand and a plastic pager in the other.

"What happened?" she asks, clutching his arm. "Is he all right?"

"He was crossing an intersection and some idiot ran a red light and t-boned him."

Gwen gasps, her breath hitching into a small sob. She looks up at Uther and notices he has a slightly haunted look about him.

"All I know right now is that his leg is broken in two places, he's got a lot of bruising, and they're going to have to remove his appendix," Uther says. They sit in some uncomfortable chairs in the surgery waiting room.

"He'll be fine, Gwen," Uther reassures her. He puts his phone in his pocket and holds his hand out. She puts her hand in his and gnaws at her lower lip.

They stare at the TV, tuned to some idiotic chat show.

"Would you like some tea?" he asks her.

"I would like some tequila, but I suppose tea will have to do," she mutters, and Uther laughs and squeezes her hand. He stands and goes to a small table at one side of the room and prepares two cups.

"How do you take it, dear?" he asks.

"Milk and one sugar, please."

He returns with their cups and they sit and wait.

"I hate this. Waiting," Uther says. He sets his cup down and fishes in his pocket, pulling out his phone.

"Pendragon," he snaps. "Yes? Good. Well, tell Robinson to expect my full wrath come tomorrow morning. I am, as you can imagine, indisposed, and if he cannot get that through his thick skull, then he's an even bigger idiot that I thought he was. Yes, you can tell him that, too. No, still waiting. Thank you, Leon."

He puts his mobile away and smiles apologetically at Gwen.

"The other driver's insurance company?"

"Mr. Pendragon?" a nurse walks over to them. "Your son is in recovery. Everything went very well. They'll be moving him to a room shortly."

"His own room," Uther says, indicating that he will not accept his son sharing a room.

"Of course, sir. I'll let you know when we get him assigned."

"Very good."

Gwen sighs and squeezes her arms around herself. She picks up her tea and sips.

Uther sits down again. "Tell me how you and Arthur met," he says suddenly.

"What?"

"I tried asking Arthur, and all he'll tell me is that it had something to do with the lift at work."

Gwen blushes and smiles, looking away a moment. "Well, do you remember that big storm back in August? It was a Friday night."

"Yes, I think so. Our computer servers were fried Monday morning, I seem to recall."

"Well, Arthur and I were in the lift, alone, when the power went out, which is probably what fried your servers. Got ours, too."

"Oh…" Uther turns slightly toward her now, eyebrows raised.

"You're just an old busybody, aren't you!" Gwen exclaims, giggling.

Uther laughs, taken off guard by her candor. "I suppose I am," he shrugs. "So you were trapped in an elevator with my son."

"In the dark," she adds.

"However did you pass the time, I wonder?" he says, indicating that he has a pretty good idea already.

"Well, sir, are you familiar with the game 'Truth or Dare?'"

xXx

Half an hour later the nurse is escorting them up to Arthur's room on the third floor.

His leg is elevated and immobilized, an IV is in his left arm, and there are tubes in his nose giving him oxygen. His entire right side looks like it has been through hell, various cuts and bruises decorating his face and arm, and probably more beneath the blankets and gown.

"Arthur," Gwen gasps, rushing over to his left side, pulling a chair closer.

"He won't wake up for a bit yet, and even if he does, he's on pretty heavy pain medication at the moment," the nurse says, checking a few things.

Gwen takes his hand gently in between hers, tears falling freely.

"If I didn't say yet, thank you, Uther, for calling me."

"I knew he'd want you here. And I knew you'd want to know, obviously. Did you tell Gaius?"

"My friend Merlin was going to. He told me to just go and he'd let Gaius know what happened. I would imagine Gaius will be calling you himself before long."

The doctor strides in now, a young, handsome, dark-haired man, almost too handsome to be believed. He looks nothing like any doctor Gwen has ever seen. He looks more like an underwear model than a doctor. He looks positively devilish.

"Mr. Pendragon," the doctor says, blinking when he sees Gwen. "Oh. Hello," he says. Gwen notices the split-second appraisal he gives her and she almost starts giggling.

"Hello," Gwen says, still holding Arthur's hand.

"I'm Doctor Gwaine McIntyre. I had the honor of removing Arthur's appendix and putting a couple pins in his knee."

"This is Gwen," Uther introduces her. "She's Arthur's girlfriend," he adds.

"Well, then, I'd say he certainly has a reason to make a speedy recovery," the doctor nods, grinning. He approaches the bed, picks up a chart, makes a mark, and hands it to the nurse, giving her some instructions.

He checks Arthur's incision, then his leg, and then comes around to adjust some things on his IV.

Gwen moves out of his way, reluctantly releasing Arthur's hand. Gwaine notices Arthur whimpered very slightly when she let go of him.

"He'll be all right?" she asks, sitting again once the doctor is done with the IV.

She takes Arthur's hand again, and as she does, Gwaine watches closely, watching as Arthur's face visibly relaxes again at her touch. He almost appears to smile.

"Yes, he'll be fine. May not be able to run a marathon, but he'll make a full recovery," Gwaine answers.

"Thank you," she says, turning her eyes back to Arthur.

"Doctor," Uther says, turning to talk to the young doctor, accompanying him as he strolls away.

Alone with Arthur, Gwen squeezes his hand, so broad between her two slender ones. She allows more tears to fall, then, sniffling, she stands and leans closer to his face, near his ear.

"Arthur," she whispers, "I dare you to get better. I dare you to fight. I dare you to…" she stops, unable to think of anything else, dropping her head onto the pillow beside his, her forehead against the cool but slightly scratchy cotton of the pillowcase, now being wet by her tears.

xXx

_Something jolts Gwen awake the morning after Leon and Mithian's wedding. No, something stirs her awake._

_Arthur. His hand is between her legs, fingers moving lazily, leisurely. Gwen stirs, squirms slightly, and moans._

_"Arthur…"_

_His lips touch her forehead. "Good morning, my love," he mutters against her skin._

_"Mmm… What are you…?"_

_"I asked you for a dare last night," he says, trailing kisses down her neck now. "You were too tired and mumbled, 'Oh, I don't know, surprise me,' and went to sleep."_

_"Did I? Oh…" she breathes, his fingers moving a little more purposefully now. She flops onto her back to give him better access and moans again._

_"When I woke up, my hand was just kind of… stuck in there," he punctuates his words by dipping a finger deep inside of her, "so I took it as a sign."_

_"Ohhh…" Gwen's knees fall wide and her back arches as his lips close around a nipple._

_"So… surprise," he says, smirking at her as he brings her to the brink just minutes after she's woken._

"Guinevere," Arthur's voice jolts Gwen out of her half-sleeping memory. He's finally woken, and it's after three a.m.

"Arthur, Love…" she breathes, lifting her head from where it had been resting on the mattress near his knee. She stands and moves up to the head of the bed, kissing the un-bruised side of his forehead, the only place she can really get to at the moment.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice weak and hoarse.

"You were in a car accident," she says, fresh tears falling now. "Broken leg. In two places. Internal and external bruising. Oh, and you are now minus one appendix." She brushes his hair off his forehead, toying with the golden strands.

"How's my car?" he asks.

"Your _car?_ " she sputters, almost laughing. _He is such a man._ "I have no bloody clue how your precious car is, Arthur, nor do I much care!"

"Ow, don't make me laugh," he says, chuckling but wincing.

"I'll let your father give you the gory details," she says. "He knows more about it than me."

"I'm sure," he says, stroking her hand with his thumb. "God, I wish I could kiss you right now. These tubes are bloody inconvenient."

She lifts his hand a little, and bends down to kiss that instead.

"Not the same," he complains.

"I know," she smiles, pressing his hand to her cheek.

He looks at her for a few moments, just studying her uniquely beautiful face. It's tired and her eyes are drooping, but she is still the most beautiful woman in the world to Arthur. "You dared me to get better," he says finally.

"You heard me," she whispers.

"I did. Thank you."

xXx

"We'll arrange for a nurse to come each day, simple as that," Uther says the next day.

"Dad, I do not need a nurse," Arthur protests. He is sitting up in bed, IV now gone, tubes no longer in his nose.

"Well you certainly can't go back to your apartment like _that_ ," Uther motions along Arthur's right side.

"He has a point, Arthur, you need care for at least a week, maybe two," Gwaine says.

"You'll come to my house," Uther states decisively.

"Um, no offense, Dad, but I want to get _better._ "

"What on earth does that mean?"

"He can stay with me," Gwen says quietly. "I'll take care of him."

Three sets of eyes turn to her now, and she stands. She looks at the doctor and the smirk on his face clearly says _I bet you will._

She ignores him and continues. "I have a house, Uther, not an apartment. It's a single-story. He won't have to worry about any stairs. And I cared for my father before he died, so I know a bit about what I'm doing. Well, except Arthur isn't dying of cancer, obviously."

"Certainly hope not," Arthur says. "But what about your job?"

"I actually have an obscene amount of vacation time accrued because I never use it. Plus, most of my work is done using a computer. I'm sure Gaius would let me work from home part time."

"Especially considering you'll be caring for his Godson," Uther chuckles.

"What?" Gwen says. _I knew he was a family friend, but Arthur's Godfather?_

"He didn't tell you that?" Uther asks.

"I didn't want to make things awkward for her at work, Dad," Arthur explains.

"So, um, you'll be staying at Gwen's, then?" Gwaine asks, steering the conversation back.

"Yes," Arthur declares, reaching for Gwen's hand.

"I suppose. He's practically living there already anyway," Uther says. Arthur looks at him, surprised. "What? You thought I didn't know?" His mobile rings, and he checks the screen. "Morgana," he tells Arthur, and excuses himself to go and answer it.

"Um, no… _activities_ for a couple weeks, kids," Gwaine says, almost out of nowhere.

"Do I _look_ completely stupid, Doctor?" Gwen asks, unable to help herself.

"It's not you I'm worried about, Princess," Gwaine answers. He initials Arthur's chart, winks at Gwen, and struts from the room.


	15. Chapter 15

"Guinevere…" Arthur shouts from the bedroom.

"Yes, Love?"

"Hungry. Can I have lunch?"

"What do you want?"

"Toasted cheese sandwich?"

"What are you, seven?" She's laughing at him now.

"I like those when I don't feel well."

"I know…"

"And an apple. Cut up. And do we have any bendy straws?"

"Yes, I bought you some."

"Chocolate milk?"

" _Yes._ God, you _are_ seven."

xXx

"Guinevere?"

"Yes?"

"I need to pee, can you come help me up?"

"Can you wait one minute? I just need to finish my thought here."

"Just one…"

xXx

"Guinevere?"

" _Yes,_ Arthur?"

"I dropped the remote, and I can't reach it."

Gwen rolls her eyes and goes to retrieve the fallen remote for her patient.

"We should get me one of those grabby things. You know, the stick with a handle at one end and a pinchy thing on the other?" he says, shaping his fingers into a C and pinching them open and closed like a lobster claw.

"Yeah, I'd get that and you'd use it to pinch my bum."

"Well, sure, now that you gave me the idea."

"I'm going back to do some work, Arthur."

xXx

"Guinevere?"

"What?"

"I'm itchy."

"Um… scratch?"

"I can't reach."

_Seriously? My father was in severe pain and near death and he was a better patient than him._

_But you volunteered for this duty, Gwen. You wanted to take care of him._

"Be there in a minute."

"Hurry…" he groans.

Gwen picks up her phone and sends Merlin a quick text: _Kill me._

A couple seconds later, her phone blips. _Is Nurse Gwen regretting her decision?_

_Shut up._

"Guineveeeeeeere…"

_I'm serious. Kill me._

"Coming." Her phone blips again. _Two words: sponge bath. Torture him a little._

"Hmm…" she says, setting her phone down and saunters back to the bedroom.

Arthur is squirming on the bed, looking rather uncomfortable.

"Sorry," she says, sitting beside him and helping him sit up.

"I know you are trying to get some work done," he says. "I try not to bother you too much, but it's killing me here."

Gwen slides her hand under his t-shirt and scratches his back while he sighs happily.

"Better."

"We should bathe you," she says.

"What?"

"Give you a little sponge bath. You'll feel better. I'd like to wash your hair, too, but I don't know if you're up for that."

"I can try. My head feels disgusting."

"You've certainly smelled better. Hmm," she says, pondering the cast on his leg. "We could put a trash bag over that and try to get you in the tub…"

"Maybe. Higher."

She scratches higher. "Or we could put some towels down and do this the old-fashioned way…"

"I'd really like to try the tub. Go get a bag." He leans over, wincing a bit, but he needs to kiss her right now because she's right there. "If I haven't said it yet, thank you for taking care of me. I love you so much."

"I love you, too," she says. _Now I feel bad about complaining._ "I'll be right back." She kisses him once more and goes in search of an extra large lawn and leaf bag, the heavy black plastic kind. His cast covers most of his leg, so she'll need a big one. _What to secure it with, though?_ she ponders. She rummages through a drawer. _Rubber bands. Not big enough. Wait, maybe in the garage…_

Gwen scuttles outside and finds what she's looking for: Extra large plastic zip ties she bought last spring to secure some vines around an electrical pole in her back yard, trying to encourage them up the pole to hide it. She grabs several, to keep in the house in case he wants another bath before his cast is off, and runs back inside.

She comes back into the bedroom to find Arthur trying to take his shirt off and swearing.

"Arthur, love, don't strain your side," Gwen says, dropping the bag and the ties on the bed to hurry over and help him before he hurts himself.

"I hate this," Arthur complains. She leans forward and kisses him.

"I know," she says softly. "Now let's get you naked."

"Mmm, if I wasn't a mess, I'd really like the sound of that. You going to join me?"

"I don't think that would be a very good idea," she says. "One minute." Gwen goes into the bathroom and starts the water in the tub.

"Okay," she returns and helps him with his shorts, the plaid reindeer ones, of course. "I brought some more of your clothes over yesterday," she mentions, tossing his shorts into the hamper to be washed.

"Oh good. Those shorts can probably walk by themselves by now," he chuckles. "Did I have anything in my mail?"

"A few bills. Some junk. You can look at it later." Gwen takes the bag and slides it up over his leg, reaching for the zip tie.

"Kinky," Arthur says, raising an eyebrow.

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'practical,' you naughty boy." Gwen snugs the tie down tight.

"Ow, not so tight!"

"We don't want any water to get in, Arthur. Don't be a baby. Come on." Gwen helps him to his feet and helps him hop to the bathroom. _Half of his stuff is here already anyway,_ she finds herself thinking. _And he's here 99 percent of the time…_

Arthur sits on the edge of the tub and Gwen turns the water off. "That's not a lot of water," he pouts.

"It's enough. This is to get your smelly arse clean, not to have a relaxing soak."

"I'm not smelly," Arthur protests, lifting his arm and taking a sniff. "Oh." He makes a face.

Gwen laughs. "In the tub. Don't make me dare you," she smirks. She holds his casted leg and helps him swing around and lower himself down into his tub. She does take a moment to appreciate his biceps as they flex with the effort.

"I see you looking," he teases. "Oh, nice and hot…" he sighs, relaxing into the tub.

Gwen takes the soap and gets a washcloth all sudsy and starts running it over his body, starting with his arms and shoulders, reaching around to get his back.

"You know, you could do this yourself," she says.

"I am much to ill," he argues, his eyes closed blissfully, a small smile on his face.

Gwen snorts and continues her work, checking the small punctures where they removed his appendix laproscopically, impressed that Dr. Gwaine didn't have to make a large incision. They look like they are healing quite well, and she washes them carefully, not wanting to hurt him.

"They itch like crazy," Arthur says.

"That means they're healing," she replies, running the cloth across his stomach. "Arthur…"

 _Something's wrong._ Arthur's eyes fly open. "What? Something look bad?"

"What? Oh, no, sorry. Everything looks really good, actually," she says. " _Really_ good," she adds, pointedly looking at his semi-erect manhood, which is apparently enjoying her ministrations as well.

Arthur laughs. "Then why the 'Arthur…'?" he asks, mimicking her tone just before. "That's the 'something is wrong' tone."

"No, that was the 'I want to ask you something' tone," she corrects, leaning over to kiss him, scrubbing his neck and behind his ears while she's in the neighborhood.

"Oh. They're very similar. You want to ask me something?"

"Yes."

"Well, then: truth."

"Hmm. This might fall more into the 'dare' category."

Arthur raises his eyebrow. Gwen runs the washcloth down his exposed leg and over his foot. "I'll have to get the other foot later," she mutters.

"Guinevere, you're stalling."

"I was just thinking when I was at your place yesterday. It's a good thing you don't have a goldfish or any houseplants."

"Because I'm never there."

"Right." She pauses, suds the washcloth again, and slides it in between his legs, a sly smirk crossing her face. "You're here all the time. I've already made space for you in the closet. You've got your beer in my fridge, and a key to my door."

"Combination," he corrects her, groaning slightly as she is apparently very intent upon getting certain parts of him very clean. _I think I know what she's going to ask._

"Whatever," she says, and a moment later, Arthur realizes that the washcloth is floating somewhere near his knee and she's moving her soapy hand on him.

"So where's my dare?" he asks, his voice low and ragged now. He reaches over with his wet left hand and creeps his fingers up under her t-shirt, searching for her breast beneath. "Mmm, no bra…" he mutters.

"Just move in here officially already," she says, leaning into his hand, which has found its target.

"Kiss me," he says, turning his face to hers, and she leans over, closing her lips over his.

Her hand slides up and down, slick and warm. His fingers squeeze her breast lightly, his thumb flicking back and forth over her nipple as their tongues play and tease one another.

"Guinevere," he grunts her name, and she tightens her grip on him, pumping a little harder.

"Mmm, yes, Love," he groans, and Gwen isn't sure if he's reacting to what she's doing or if he's answering her question.

Gwen feels him reaching for her, beginning to pull her closer. "Arthur, be careful," she says, pulling her lips from his.

He groans again, too far gone to properly answer her. His right hand drops from her waist to grip the edge of the tub, his left hand still on her breast, which is now completely exposed, her t-shirt shoved up above them.

She slides her hand a few more times and then she feels his body tense and his member pulse in her hand as he releases, spilling onto his stomach. He relaxes, drained, and his hand falls from her breast. Gwen reaches for another washcloth and gently cleans his stomach, figuring he probably doesn't want to sit in a bathtub with his "boys."

"God, Guinevere, you are amazing," he sighs. "I needed that…"

She leans over and kisses him, fixing her shirt as she does so. "I know. Maybe once your cast is off we can give it a try for real."

"You can be on top," he says, grinning.

"Is the water getting cold?" she asks, swishing her hand in the tub.

"A little," he says, shifting a bit. "We going to do my hair?"

"Yes. Oh, here," she says, taking the washcloth up and soaping it again before handing it to him. "I love you, but there is one part of you I am _not_ going to wash for you."

He looks at the cloth a moment, then laughs. "Right," he says, gingerly leaning on his elbow and lifting his hips to scrub down below and under.

Gwen reaches for a plastic cup and turns the taps back on, filling it. "Can you sit up a little?"

"Yes, I think so." Arthur shoves up on his elbows and tilts his head back so Gwen can pour water over his head.

She pours shampoo into her hand and massages it into his hair and scalp.

"Mmm," he hums appreciatively.

"Did you answer my question?" Gwen asks.

"What question would this be?"

She tugs a lock of his hair. "Are you going to move in here?"

"You really want me to?"

"Would I be asking if I didn't?"

"Good point."

Gwen fills the cup again, and this time pulls the drain plug while she rinses his hair. She pours clean water over his chest and shoulders as well, making sure she gets all the soap off.

"I would love to live here with you, officially," he finally says. "The first thing I need to move is my telly. Yours is woefully inadequate."

"It's big enough," she argues, helping him up and out of the tub, wrapping him in a large, fluffy towel.

"Not even close, my love," he counters, kissing her again as he leans heavily on her.

"It's going to have to wait until you're better, you know."

"Oho, you forget, I'm a spoiled rich boy. I can have that taken care of," he boasts.

"Great," she rolls her eyes, helping to dry him, pulling a clean t-shirt over his head and grabbing scissors to un-bag his right leg. Before she forgets, Gwen bends and grabs the washcloth, cleaning the toes and part of his foot sticking out from the end of the cast. "Going to have to give you a pedi later."

"Just no polish," he says.

"Of course not. Not that you could stop me, come to think…" she comments, pulling a clean pair of shorts up and on.

"You wouldn't," he says, yawning.

"Time to get you back to bed. Also time for more meds, I do believe," she says, quickly pulling a comb through his hair.

"I just had the best medicine," he says, grinning goofily at her.

"You are falling asleep on your feet now," Gwen says, helping him back to bed. "Too much exertion."

"Oh, Guinevere…" he says, suddenly sounding concerned.

"Hmm?"

"You didn't get any…"

"Shh, Arthur, I think I'll live," she says, dispensing two pills into her palm and handing them to him with a cup of water.

"I'm sorry, Love."

She tucks him into the bed, brushing his damp hair from his forehead.

"Arthur, it's all right," she kisses his forehead, his temple, his cheek. "Maybe later I'll let you watch me with BOB," she teases.

"Bob?"

"B.O.B. Battery Operated Boyfriend. You bought him."

"Right," he says, barely able to keep his eyes open. "Dare you," he mumbles before dropping off to sleep.

"Dare me, indeed," she mutters, heading back out to try and do some more work. "He hasn't learned yet?"


	16. Chapter 16

Guinevere carries the laundry basket into her house and takes it back to the bedroom. Arthur was out cold for the afternoon, so when she finished work she went to his flat to get some more of his clothes and personals and stopped for takeaway on her way home.

She hears the television on in her room as she approaches. "Hey," she says setting the basket down. "Have you been awake long?"

"About ten minutes. I have to pee."

"Come on, then," she says, pulling the bag of dinner off the top of the laundry basket and setting it on the dresser.

"What's that?"

"Fish and chips. Thought we'd have a picnic."

"Yum," he says, leaning up to kiss her before she helps him to the bathroom.

On the way back to the bed, he looks at the basket. "More of my clothes?"

"Yeah, I went to your flat and got some things," she says.

"Things? Looks like mostly clothes."

"Yeah, well, I also got most of your medicine cabinet," she points to a bag on the dresser, and… this."

She reaches down and pulls a battered old teddy bear out from under his shirts.

"Nigel!" Arthur exclaims, completely unembarrassed. Gwen tosses the bear to him and laughs while he hugs it. "Hey, buddy." He sets the bear down on the bed next to him, where it sags against his side.

Gwen just shakes her head, smiling fondly at him. "I found him tucked into your bed where your pillow used to be." The first thing he wanted during his convalescence at Gwen's was his own pillow.

"Yeah, my dad didn't think he should bring him along as well. I told him that he should have. Put those away later, Love, I'm hungry."

"Let me get another blanket so we don't get the bed all greasy," she says, going out for a moment.

She returns with the blanket and spreads it out on the bed, then passes him a can of soda.

He frowns at it.

"I know you're dying for a beer with this, Love. But you can't have any until you're off your meds."

"It just tastes better," he grumbles, setting his can down.

They eat and discuss details about moving Arthur into the house. Where to put his things. What things they have duplicates of. Gwen starts making a list while they eat, which makes Arthur chuckle.

xXx

They finish their dinner, and Gwen can see that Arthur only has one thing on his mind right now: her promise from earlier.

 _Well then, I'm just going to have to torture him a bit, aren't I?_ "Is there anything you'd like to do tonight, Love?" she asks, cleaning up the dinner mess and folding up their "picnic" blanket.

"I can think of one thing," he says suggestively, shifting slightly. Gwen comes around and helps adjust his pillows behind him.

"Oh? Should we play a game? Perhaps there's a movie you'd like to watch. Or is there a footy game on?" she asks, trying not to smile. "I could catch up on some laundry if there is, and…"

" _Guinevere,_ " Arthur groans, "why do you torture me? I'm an injured man!"

She grins at him now, giggling. "You've got one thing on your mind, pervert," she says.

"You know it. Come over here and I'll get you warmed up," he says, patting the bed beside him. He picks up Nigel and moves him to the nightstand, facing the wall.

She sits beside him on the bed, on his uninjured left side. He wraps his arm around her and pulls her close, kissing her softly. She leans across him, careful not to lie on him too much. He says she doesn't weigh anything, but she knows different. She deepens the kiss, lifting up on her knees a little, and his hand slides down to cup her backside while he carefully brings his right hand over to gently squeeze her left breast.

"Mmm," he groans into her mouth. She feels his fingers move to the buttons of her shirt and she pulls away.

"Now, now, don't be greedy. I may have something in mind for you," she says. He grins like it's suddenly Christmas.

"That's not the same shirt you had on before," he says suddenly. She was wearing a t-shirt earlier. Now she has a button-down blouse on.

"It got all wet," Gwen says, climbing off the bed now. She turns the TV off and glances at the curtains. _Still closed. Good._

"And now it's your turn to get all wet," Arthur says.

"You've got a dirty mouth, Arthur," Gwen says, but she's grinning at him. She leans over and kisses him. As she does so, she pops the next button on her blouse. When she pulls away, she is still leaning over, and Arthur can just make out the edges of some red lace and a lot of cleavage.

He swallows. "That's my favorite one," he says quietly.

"I know," she answers, walking away and opening another button. In Arthur's mental hierarchy of Gwen's lingerie, her red lace push-up demi-bra is right below the purple panties that he stole and still has hidden away somewhere.

She turns to face him again and opens another button. Then she trails her fingers down and opens her jeans.

"You were wearing yoga pants earlier," he whispers, transfixed.

"I had to go out and get our dinner, didn't I?" she asks. She slides the denim down over her hips, then turns her back on him as she bends over and pulls the jeans the rest of the way down.

The black satin boyleg panties are number three on the list, because they expose the bottoms of her beautifully rounded cheeks so enticingly. Especially now, when she's pointing them at him.

"You are _killing_ me," he groans, cursing the cast on his leg.

Gwen straightens up and looks at him over her shoulder. "I am? I could stop…"

"No!" She turns around and he gapes.

 _Dear God, she's wearing stockings. Black thigh high stockings._ "Leave those on," he croaks, pointing.

"Whatever you want, Love," she says. She returns to the bed, crawling over to him. He eyes her hungrily, and she kisses him again. Then she moves higher and he presses his face into her cleavage, placing kisses everywhere he can reach.

Gwen reaches behind and unclasps the bra. Arthur feels it loosen, and he tugs at it with his teeth, yanking it out of the way. She laughs and lets it fall from her shoulders. Arthur takes a nipple greedily into his mouth, a starving man at a banquet.

"Too long," he mumbles.

"I know," she agrees, gasping, trying to hold herself upright to avoid hurting him. Arthur somehow works his hand down and into her panties. "Oh…" she moans when he touches her. _How is he even doing that?_

Her hand moves over the growing bulge just beneath the covers, squeezing lightly. He grunts, but moves her hand, "No, this is your turn," he says softly, kissing her fingers.

"You can help, if you want," she says.

"I thought that's what I was doing," he answers, grinning against her neck.

"No, with…"

"Bob?"

"Yeah," she breathes.

"I want to watch," he purrs in her ear, sucking her earlobe for a few seconds.

"Okay," she answers, her eyes closed as his hand skims over her breasts and down to the waistband of her panties.

"I think you need to lose these," he says, snapping the elastic.

"Oh!" she exclaims, smacking his shoulder lightly. Then she kisses it and slides away, rolling to open a drawer and withdraw the vibrator.

Arthur makes himself comfortable as best he can, his eyes roving over her body appreciatively.

"I like how you look at me," Gwen says, noticing his appraisal.

"That's because I like looking at you," he says.

Gwen peels her already-damp knickers off, dropping them on the floor, ignoring Arthur's outstretched hand.

"I wanted those," Arthur pouts.

"You've already got one pair held hostage, Arthur, you're not getting another," she chastises, pointing the vibrator at him. Then she switches it on and runs it down his chest, briefly teasing his manhood with it through the blankets.

"Ah," he grunts, "that's for you…"

"Very well," she says, lying back on the bed, but facing him, leaning back on some pillows she's piled near his knees. She takes the vibrator and runs it over her breasts, around each nipple, teasing them to hard nubs. She moans softly and runs it down over her stomach.

"Oh…" her knees fall wide and Arthur watches, a willing captive audience, as she touches it to herself, sliding it along her folds, arching her back.

"Bloody hell," Arthur whispers, having trouble deciding where to look. Then she slides the vibrator inside herself and makes his decision for him.

"Ooo," she coos, pumping it slowly in and out, in and out, before withdrawing it fully again to press it to herself. "Oh… right… _there,_ " she breathes, moving it in small, slow circles.

Arthur's hand is moving on himself now, unable to hold back any longer, but then Gwen grabs his hand and pulls it to her, moving herself closer to make sure he can reach. She takes two of his fingers and guides them into her. He starts sliding them in and out and she replaces the vibrator on her swollen nub again.

"Oh… Arthur…" she moans, getting louder now. Arthur's hand moves automatically, slipping his fingers into her warm, wet center while she works the vibrator with one hand and pulls at one of her nipples with the other, writhing on the bed beside him.

"Ah… Arth… oh, oh yes, Arthur!" she cries out his name and the vibrator tumbles from her fingers. Arthur can feel her muscles clenching rhythmically around his fingers, which he stills.

"Mmm," Gwen hums, absently reaching for the vibrator and switching it off. Arthur slowly withdraws his fingers.

He ponders them a moment, then sucks her moisture off of them, much like he did at the restaurant that night months ago. He licks his lips contentedly, then gets a sly look on his face.

"I know I said this was for you, but now I'm in a state," he declares, watching her lounging in post-orgasmic bliss on the bed. He smirks, shuffles the blankets and his shorts down, then returns his hand to her, sliding his fingers against her again.

"Arthur!" she jumps, still over-sensitive from her climax.

"I want some of your moisture," he says, spreading it over his erection, lubricating himself with her juices.

"Ooo, that's kind of kinky," she says. Then she decides to help, adding more moisture and sliding her own hand on him again. His hand falls away and he lets her work her magic on him. Again.

Soon the wetness goes away, to be replaced with a different wetness. Arthur's eyes fly open as her mouth closes around him, her flexible tongue licking and swirling.

"Oh…" he groans. _I'm not going to last long,_ he realizes. _She is so good at this._

Gwen trails kisses up and down his shaft, even grazes her teeth along the length of him before sliding him back in, sucking hard.

"Yes," he whispers, dropping his head back again, surrendering. She is unrelenting; drawing all of him in, backing him out almost completely, then back in again.

He comes then, groaning something that could maybe be considered her name, clutching the blankets. Gwen swallows reflexively and gently releases him. She kisses his stomach and then his lips.

"You are the best girlfriend ever," Arthur says, exhausted.


	17. Chapter 17

One month later

"Gwen, it's time to go, why are you still working?" Merlin asks Gwen. It's Friday and it's past quitting time and she is still diligently working away.

"Arthur sent me a text earlier that he was going to be late. I'm his ride, so I figured I'd just stay late myself and wait."

"You could leave him your keys and I could give you a ride home," Merlin offers, but he knows she'll say no.

"Merlin, you know he can't drive yet. He still has that boot on for at least one more week," she says.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Merlin says, pretending he'd forgotten.

Gwen just shakes her head at him. "Have a good weekend," she says, smiling up at him.

"You, too. See you Monday." He pushes his chair in and heads for the door. Inside the lift he presses the button with the number 24 on it, and exits one floor down, heading into Pendragon Insurance.

Half an hour later, Gwen gets a text from Arthur. _All done. Meet me down here?_

 _Be right there,_ she sends back, shutting everything down and grabbing her jacket.

The lift doors slide open on 24 and Arthur is waiting right outside them, poking his phone. He taps the screen one last time and then puts the screen to sleep, slipping it into his pocket. "Hi," he says, smiling and stepping unevenly in, kissing her as he does so.

"Hi, yourself," she says, twining her fingers with his. The elevator starts to descend.

Thirty seconds later, it stops and they are plunged into darkness.

"You have got to be kidding me," Gwen says. "There's not even a storm this time."

"I hope it's nothing serious," Arthur says. "You all right?" he asks, wrapping her in his arms, standing behind her, remembering how unnerved she was on the night they met.

"Actually, yes. Somehow the darkness doesn't seem so oppressive this time," she says.

"Let's sit," Arthur says, releasing her with one hand to step back. He hangs on to the wall and sits on the floor. Then pulls her down in front of him, nestling her between his legs, her back to his chest. He winds his arms around her again and toys with her fingers absently.

"At least we know how to amuse ourselves," he jokes, hoping she'll take the bait.

"Mmm," she replies, and he can hear the smile in her voice even though he cannot see it on her face.

"Dare," she says with a giggle, leaning her head up and back to kiss his chin.

"Hmm," Arthur says, thinking, still toying with her hands, except now his fingers seem to have a purpose.

"Arthur, what—"

Her words are cut off by the sensation of something being slipped on the third finger of her left hand.

"I dare you to marry me, Guinevere," he whispers in her ear, his warm breath sending wonderful chills down her spine.

Gwen gasps, groping with her right hand to feel what is surely an engagement ring on her hand. _A bloody huge engagement ring, from the feel of it!_

"Guinevere?" he asks, suddenly sounding a little scared.

"Yes," she whispers, turning quickly around, searching for his lips with hers. They miss at first, finding a chin and a nose, but then they connect, her warm, soft lips pliant under his, his tongue searching hers out in the darkness.

But they no longer need to see, and in moments Gwen finds herself on her back on the floor of the lift, Arthur over her, kissing deeply, caressing her face and her neck with his hand.

She moans into his mouth, running her fingers through his hair, clinging to him.

"God, I love you," Arthur murmurs between kisses, the declaration practically a prayer.

"I love you, Arthur," she answers, tilting her head back as he kisses down her neck, his hand now on her breast, her right leg wrapped around his left, her skirt bunched at her hips.

Then the lights come back on.

"Wow," Gwen says.

"Yeah, that was pretty wow, wasn't it," Arthur says, awkwardly moving back to a seated position, allowing her to sit up now.

"No, I meant wow for this ring. Bloody, hell, Arthur, it's amazing!"

Arthur laughs and she helps him to his feet. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it. It's beautiful, and so are you," she says, wrapping her arms around his waist, grinning up at him.

"And you are the most beautiful woman in the entire world," he says.

"Thank you, even if it is a ridiculous overstatement," she smiles, chuckling warmly at him.

"Well, perhaps my judgment may be a bit slanted."

"A bit, but I love you for it."

Gwen looks down at her ring again. "You're pretty confident, aren't you, just sliding this ring right on before I even answered?"

"I was fairly certain you'd say yes," he says, kissing the top of her head just as the doors _ding_ and open.

Merlin and Uther are standing in the lobby, looking like two little boys on Christmas morning.

And suddenly Gwen knows the source of the mysterious power outage. They step out of the lift and she turns and looks at Arthur, her hands on her hips.

"What?" he asks innocently. Too innocently.

"You are too cute and too ridiculous," she laughs now. "And _you_ two… _accomplices…_ " she wheels on the other two. "Merlin! You big fat liar!"

"I never lied!" Merlin says, holding his hands up. "Did I ever say I was going home?"

Gwen stops. Thinks. _Shit. He didn't._ "You're _my_ friend, not _his_ accomplice!" she exclaims, but the grin has not left her face.

"Yes, I'm your friend. I did this for you, silly! Now come here and give me a hug," he says, holding his arms out.

"Thank you, Merlin, you were sweet to help," Gwen says, hugging her friend. Then she turns to Uther and hugs him as well, laughing when he briefly tenses.

"You need to get used to being hugged, old man," Gwen teases him. "And thank you, too." She releases him. "I assume they needed your influence to pull off this little stunt."

He nods, smiling at her. "It does come in handy to be the intimidating sort at times," he admits.

Behind her she hears Arthur softly and incredulously repeat, "Old man?" Gwen turns around and laughs at him. "If anyone else had called him that, including me, they would have found themselves tossed out the front door," Arthur declares.

"Honestly, Arthur," Uther protests. "Surely I wouldn't be able to throw you quite that far."

Gwen falls to laughing again, and looks at her ring again. _I can't stop looking at it,_ she realizes.

"Come on, kids, dinner is my treat," Uther says, turning to the door.

"Um, can we take a rain check on that, Dad?" Arthur asks. "I have other plans." He gazes down at Gwen, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face.

"Oh. Um. Right," Uther says, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Another time, then." He turns and starts to exit the lobby.

"You can still buy me dinner," Merlin calls after him.

"No."

Arthur and Gwen laugh. "Go home, Merlin. Take Freya out for a nice dinner," Gwen says.

"Yeah, she's more fun than Uther, I'm sure," Merlin nods. "Congratulations, guys."

"Thank you, Merlin," Gwen says. Then she looks up at Arthur and kisses him again.

"Dare," he says, smirking at her.

"Come home with me."


End file.
